SIA?HOUNDS 


.  ;        , 

; 


SEA-HOUNDS 


BRITISH    BATTLE-SHIPS    ON    PATROL 


SEA-HOUNDS 


BY 

LEWIS  R.    FREEMAN 

Lieut.  R.N.V.R. 


WITH    ILLUSTRATIONS    FROM 
PHOTOGRAPHS    BY    THE 


NEW  YORK 

DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 

1919 


PUBLISHED  IN  THE  U.S.A    1919 
By  DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY,  INC. 


(Co 

Commodore  Sir  DOUGLAS  BROWNRIGG,  Bart. 
C.B.,  R.N.,  Chief  Censor,  Admiralty 


CONTENTS 


THE  MEN  WHO  CHANGED  SHIPS 

"FIREBRAND"  . 

"  BACK  FROM  THE  JAWS  "  . 

HUNTING 

THE  CONVOY  GAME  . 

YANK  BOAT  VERSUS  UVBoAT 

ADRIATIC  PATROL 

PATROL    .... 
u  f\  » 

V£  .... 

THE  WHACK  AND  THE  SMACK 
BOMBED  .... 
AGAINST  ODDS  . 
BOUNDING  UP  FRITZ  . 


1 

35 
59 
82 
112 
135 
157 
173 
199 
232 
250 
268 
287 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


British  Battleships  on  Patrol     .        Frontispiece 

PAGE 

German  Shells  Striking  the  Water  at  the 
Battle  of  Jutland 


A  Broadside  at  Night  at  the  Battle  of  Jut- 
land 


12 


12 
90 
90 
128 
128 
128 


"  Kamerading  "  with  Uplifted  Paws    . 
Helping  the  Cook  to  Peel  Potatoes 
Where  the  Great  Liner  Plowed  Along  . 
We  Had  Collided  with  the  "  Brick  Wall " 
Now  She  Was  Back  at  Base 

A  Limit  to  the  Number  of  "  Cans  "  a  De- 
stroyer Can  Carry        ....     152 

A  Depth  Charge          .         .         .         .         .188 
Disabled  Destroyer  in  Tow  ....     188 

The  Lookout  on  a  Destroyer,  and  Part  of  His 

View 242 

She  Came  Bowling  Along  Under  Sail  .         .     284 


SEA   HOUNDS 

CHAPTER  I 


THE   MEN   WHO  CHANGED  SHIPS 

BETWEEN  the  lighter-load  of  burning  beeves 
that  came  bumping  down  along  their  line  at 
noon,  a  salvo  of  bombs  slapped  across 
them  at  one  o'clock  from  a  raiding  Bulgar  air 
squadron,  a  violent  Levantine  squall  which  all  but 
broke  them  loose  from  their  moorings  at  sundown, 
and  a  signal  to  raise  steam  for  full  speed  with  all 
dispatch  at  midnight,  it  had  been  a  rather  exciting 
twelve  hours  for  the  destroyers  of  the  First  Divi- 
sion of  the  -  — th  Flotilla,  and  now,  when  at  dawn 
the  expected  order  to  proceed  to  sea  was  received, 
ii  began  to  look  as  though  there  might  be  still  fur- 
ther excitement  in  pickle  down  beyond  the  hori- 
zontal blur  where  the  receding  wall  of  the  paling 
purple  night-mist  was  uncovering  the  Gulf's  hard, 
flat  floor  of  polished  indigo. 

"  It's  probably  the  same  old  thing,"  said  the  cap- 
tain of  the  Sparky  repressing  a  yawn  after  he  had 
given  the  quartermaster  his  course  to  enter  the 
labyrinthine  passage  where  puffing  trawlers  were 
towing  back  the  gates  of  the  buoyed  barrages,  "  a 

1 


2  '  SEA-HOUNDS 

U-boat  or  two  making  a  bluff  at  attacking  a  convoy. 
They've  been  sinking  a  good  deal  more  than  we  can 
afford  to  lose;  last  week  they  got  an  oiler  and 
another  ship  with  the  whole  summer's  supply  of 
mosquito-netting  aboard — but  that  was  off  the  south 
peninsula  of  Greece  or  up  Malta  way.  Here  they 
haven't  more  than  (  demonstrated  '  about  the  mouth 
of  the  Gulf  for  two  or  three  months.  They  know 
jolly  well  that  if  they  once  come  inside,  no  matter 
if  they  do  sink  a  ship  or  two,  that  it's  a  hundred 
to  one — between  sea-planes,  '  blimps/  P.B.s,  and 
destroyers — against  their  ever  getting  out  again. 
There's  just  a  chance  that  they  may  try  it  this 
time,  though,  for  they  must  know  how  terribly 
short  the  whole  Salonika  force  is  of  petrol,  and 
what  a  real  mess  things  will  be  left  in  if  they  can 
pot  even  one  of  the  two  or  three  oilers  in  this  con- 
voy. You'll  see  a  merry  chase  with  a  kill  at  the 
end  of  it  if  they  do,  I  can  promise  you,  for  the  con- 
voy is  beyond  the  neck  of  the  bag  even  now,  and  if 
a  single  Fritz  has  come  in  after  them,  the  string 
will  be  pulled  and  the  rest  of  the  game  will  be 
played  out  here  in  the  '  bull-ring.' ' 

The  captain  had  just  started  telling  me  how  the 
game  was  played,  when  the  W.T.*  room  called  him 
on  the  voice-pipe  to  say  that  one  of  the  ships  of  the 
convoy  had  just  been  torpedoed  and  was  about  to 
sink,  and  shortly  afterwards^a  radio  was  received 
from  the  C.-in-C.  ordering  the  flotilla  to  proceed  to 

*  Wireless  Telegraph. 


THE  MEN  WHO  CHANGED  SHIPS        3 

hunt  the  submarine  responsible  for  the  trouble. 
Then  the  officer  commanding  the  division  leader 
flashed  his  orders  by  "  visual "  to  the  several  units 
of  the  flotilla,  and  presently  these  were  spreading 
fan-wise  to  sweep  southward  toward  where,  sixty  to 
a  hundred  miles  away,  numerous  drifters  would  be 
dropping  mile  after  mile  of  light  nets  across  the 
straits  leading  out  to  the  open  Mediterranean. 
Northeastward,  where  the  rising  sun  was  begin- 
ning to  prick  into  vivid  whiteness  the  tents  of  the 
great  hospital  areas,  several  sea-planes  were  cir- 
cling upwards;  and  southeastward,  above  the  dry 
brown  hills  of  the  Cassandra  peninsula,  the  silver 
bag  of  an  air-ship  floated  across  the  sky  like  a  soar- 
ing tumble  bug.  The  hounds  of  the  sea  and  air  had 
begun  to  stalk  their  quarry. 

"  It's  a  biggish  sort  of  a  place  to  hunt  over," 
said  the  captain,  as  the  Spark  stood  away  on  a 
course  that  formed  the  outside  left  rib  of  the 
flotilla's  "  fan,"  and  took  her  in  to  skirt  the  rocky 
coast  of  Cassandra;  "and  there's  so  many  in  the 
hunt  that  the  chances  are  all  in  favour  of  some 
other  fellow  getting  the  brush  instead  of  you. 
And  unless  we  have  the  luck  to  do  some  of  the 
flushing  ourselves,  I  won't  promise  you  that  the 
whole  show  won't  prove  no  end  of  a  bore;  and  even 
if  we  do  scare  him  up — well,  there  are  a  good  many 
more  exciting  things  than  dropping  '  ash-cans '  on 
a  frightened  Fritzie.  It  won't  be  a  circumstance, 
for  instance,  to  that  rough  house  we  ran  into  at  the 


4  SEA-HOUNDS 

*  White  Tower'  last  night  when  that  boxful  of 
French  '  blue-devils '  wouldn't  stop  singing  '  Ma- 
delon '  when  the  couchee-couchee  dancer's  turn 
began,  and  her  friend,  the  Russian  colonel  in  the 
next  box,  started  to  dissolve  the  Entente  by— 

The  captain  broke  off  suddenly  and  set  the  alarm 
bell  going  as  a  lynx-eyed  lookout  cut  in  with  "  Con- 
nin'  tower  o'  submreen  three  points  on  port  bow," 
and,  with  much  banging  of  boots  on  steel  decks  and 
ladders,  the  ship  had  gone  to  "  Action  Stations  " 
before  a  leisurely  mounting  recognition  rocket  re- 
vealed the  fact  that  the  "  enemy  "  was  a  friend, 
doubtless  a  "  co-huntress." 

Although  we  were  still  far  from  where  there  was 
yet  any  chance  of  encountering  the  U-boat  which 
had  attacked  the  convoy,  there  were  two  or  three 
alarms  in  the  course  of  the  next  hour.  The  first 
was  when  we  altered  our  course  to  avoid  a  torpedo 
reported  as  running  to  strike  our  port  bow,  to  dis- 
cover an  instant  later  that  the  doughty  Spark  was 
turning  away  from  a  gambolling  porpoise.  The 
second  was  when  some  kind  of  a  long-necked  sea- 
bird  rose  from  a  dive  about  two  hundred  yards  on 
the  starboard  beam  and  created  an  effect  so  like  a 
finger-periscope  with  its  following  "  feather  "  that 
it  drew  a  shell  from  the  foremost  gun  which  all  but 
blew  it  out  of  the  water.  It  was  my  remarking  the 
smartness  with  which  this  gun  was  served  that  led 
the  captain,  when  a  floating  mine  was  reported  a 
few  minutes  later,  to  order  that  sinister  menace  to 


THE  MEN  WHO  CHANGED  SHIPS        5 


be  destroyed  by  shell-fire  rather  than,  as  usual,  by 
shots  from  a  rifle.  All  the  guns  which  would  bear 
were  given  an  even  start  in  the  race  to  hit  the 
wickedly  horned  hemisphere  as  we  brought  it 
abeam  at  a  range  of  six  or  eight  hundred  yards; 
but  the  lean,  keen  crew  of  the  pet  on  the  fore- 
castle— splashing  the  target  with  their  first  shot 
and  detonating  it  with  their  second — won  in  a  walk 
and  left  the  others  nothing  but  a  hundred-feet- 
high  geyser  of  smoke-streaked  spray  tumbling 
above  a  heart  of  flame  to  pump  their  tardier  shells 
into. 

The  captain  gazed  down  with  a  smile  of  affection- 
ate pride  to  where  the  winners,  having  trained  their 
gun  back  amidships,  were  wiping  its  smoky  nose, 
sponging  out  its  mouth,  polishing  its  sleek  barrel, 
and  patting  its  shiny  breech,  for  all  the  world  as 
though  they  were  grooms  and  stable-boys  and 
jockeys  performing  similar  services  for  the  Derby 
winner  just  led  back  to  his  stall. 

"  There's  not  another  such  four-inch  gun's  crew 
as  that  one  in  any  ship  in  the  Mediterranean,"  he 
said,  "which  makes  it  all  the  greater  pity  that 
they  have  never  once  had  a  chance  to  fire  a  shot  at 
anything  of  the  enemy's  any  larger  than  that  Bulgar 
bombing  plane  they  cocked  up  and  took  a  pot  at 
after  he  had  gone  over  yesterday.  I  mean  that  they 
never  had  a  chance  as  a  crew.  Individually,  I  be- 
lieve there  are  twro  or  three  of  them  that  have  been 
through  some  of  the  hottest  shows  in  the  war.  That 


6 


SEA-HOUNDS 


slender  chap  there  in  the  blue  overall  was  in  the 
Killarney  when  she  was  shot  to  pieces  and  sunk 
by  German  cruisers  at  Jutland,  and  I  believe  his 
Number  Two — that  one  in  a  singlet,  with  his  sleeves 
rolled  up  and  just  a  bit  of  a  limp — was  in  the; 
Seagull  when  she  was  rammed,  right  in  the  middle 
of  an  action  with  the  Huns,  by  both  the  Bow  and 
the  Wreath.  A  number  of  ratings  from  the  Sea- 
gull clambered  over  the  forecastle  of  the  Bow  while 
the  two  were  locked  together,  evidently  because 
they  thought  their  own  ship  was  going  down, 
while  two  or  three  men  from  the  Bow  were  thrown 
by  the  force  of  the  collision  on  to  the  Seagull. 
When  the  two  broke  loose  and  drifted  apart  men 
from  each  of  them  were  left  on  the  other,  and  by  a 
rather  interesting  coincidence,  we  have  right  here 
in  the  Spark  at  this  moment  representatives  of  both 
batches.  They,  with  two  or  three  other  Jutland 
'  veterans  '  who  chance  also  to  be  in  the  Spark,  call 
themselves  the  '  Black  Marias.'  Just  why,  I'm  not 
quite  sure,  but  I  believe  it  has  something  to  do  with 
their  all  being  finally  picked  up  by  one  destroyer 
and  carried  back  to  harbour  like  a  lot  of  drunks 
after  a  night's  spree.  And,  to  hear  them  talk  of 
it  when  they  get  together,  that  is  the  spirit  in 
which  they  affect  to  regard  a  phase  of  the  Jut- 
land battle  which  wiped  out  some  scores  of  their 
mates  and  two  or  three  of  the  destroyers  of  their 
flotilla.  Talking  with  one  of  them  alone,  he  will 
occasionally  condescend  to  speak  of  the  serious  side 


THE  MEN  WHO  CHANGED  SHIPS 

of  the  show,  but  their  joint  reminiscences,  in  the 
constant  by-play  of  banter,  are  more  suggestive  of 
tumultuous  '  nights  of  gladness  >  on  the  beach  at 
Port  Said  or  Rio  than  the  most  murderous  spasm 
of  night  fighting  in  the  whose  course  of  naval  his- 
tory. You've  got  a  long  and  probably  tiresome  day 
ahead  of  you.  Perhaps  it  might  ease  the  monotony 
a  bit  if  you  had  a  yarn  with  two  or  three  of  them. 
They'll  be  bored  stiff  standing  by  in  this  blazing 
sun  with  small  prospects  of  anything  turning  up, 
and  probably  easier  to  draw  out  than  at  most  times. 
Gains,  there  by  the  foremost  gun,  would  be  a  good 
one  for  a  starter.  There  is  no  doubt  of  his  having 
seen  some  minutes  of  the  real  thing  in  the  Kil- 
larney.  Only  don't  try  a  frontal  attack  on  him. 
Just  saunter  along  and  start  talking  about  any- 
thing else  on  earth  than  Jutland  and  the  Killarney, 
and  then  lead  him  round  by  degrees." 

We  were  just  passing  the  riven  wreck  of  a  large 
freighter  as  I  sidled  inconsequently  along  to  the 
forecastle,  and  the  strange  way  in  which  the  stern 
appeared  to  be  stirring  to  the  barely  perceptible 
swell  gave  ample  excuse  for  turning  to  the  crew  of 
the  foremost  gun  for  a  possible  explanation.  It 
.was  Leading  Seaman  Gains,  as  incisive  of  speech  as 
he  was  quick  of  movement,  who  replied,  and  I 
recognized  him  at  once  as  a  youth  of  force  and  per- 
sonality, one  of  the  type  to  whom  the  broadened  op- 
portunities for  quick  promotion  offered  the  Lower 


SEA-HOUNDS 

Deck  through  the  war  has  given  a  new  outlook  on 
life. 

"  She  was  a  tramp  with  a  cargo  of  American 
mules  for  the  Serbs,  sir,"  he  said,  "  and  she  was 
submarined  two  or  three  miles  off  shore.  The 
mouldie  cracked  her  up  amidships,  but  her  back 
didn't  break  till  she  grounded  on  that  sand  spit 
there.  At  first  her  stern  sank  till  her  poop  was 
awash  at  high  tide — there's  only  a  few  feet  rise 
and  fall  here,  as  you  probably  know,  sir — but  when 
the  bodies  of  the  mules  that  had  been  drowned 
'tween  decks  began  to  swell  they  blocked  up  all 
the  holes  and  finally  generated  so  much  gas  that 
the  increased  buoyancy  lifted  the  keel  of  the  stern 
half  clear  of  the  bottom  and  left  it  free  to  move 
with  the  seas.  I  have  heard  they  intend  to  blow 
out  her  bottom  and  sink  her  proper  for  fear  that 
end  of  her  might  float  off  in  a  storm  and  turn 
derelict." 

That  story  was,  as  I  learned  later,  substantially 
true,  but  it  had  just  enough  of  the  fantastic  in  it  to 
tempt  the  twinkling  eyed  "  Number  Two  "  to  a  bit 
of  embroidery  on  his  own  account.  He  was  the  one 
with  the  muscular  forearms  and  the  slight  limp. 
The  suggestion  of  "  New  World "  accent  in  his 
speech  was  traceable,  he  subsequently  told  me,  to 
the  many  years  he  had  spent  on  the  Esquimault 
station  in  British  Columbia. 

"  They  do  say,  sir/'  he  said  solemnly,  rubbing 
hard  at  an  imaginary  patch  of  inferior  refulgency 


THE  MEN  WHO  CHANGED  SHIPS        9 

on  the  shining  breech  of  his  gun,  "  that  she's  that 
light  and  jumpy  with  mule-gas,  after  the  sun's  been 
beating  on  her  poop  all  day,  that  she  lifts  right  up 
in  the  air  and  tugs  at  her  moorings  like  a  kite 
balloon.  And  there's  one  buzz  winging  round  that 
they're  going  to  run  a  pipe-line  to  her  end  and  use 
the  gas  for  inflating " 

Gains,  evidently  feeling  that  there  were  limits  to 
Which  the  credulity  of  a  landsman  should  be  im- 
posed upon,  cut  in  coldly  and  crushingly  with: 
"  She's  not  the  only  old  wreck  ?round  here  that  they 
could  draw  on  for  '  mule-gas '  if  there's  ever  need 
of  it,  my  boy ;  and  as  for  her  rising  under  her  own 
power — well,  if  she  ever  goes  as  far  as  you  did 
under  yours  the  night  you  jumped  from  the  Seagull 
to  the  Bow  I'll " 

The  gusty  guffaw  that  drowned  the  rest  of  Gains' 
broadside  left  us  all  on  good  terms,  and,  by  a 
happy  chance,  with  the  "  Jutland  ice "  already 
broken.  Number  Two,  joining  heartily  in  the 
laugh,  said  that,  "nifty"  as  was  his  jump  from 
the  Seagull  to  the  Bow,  it  wasn't  a  "  starter  "  to 
the  "  double  back-action-summerset "  with  which 
Jock  Campbell  was  chucked  from  the  Boiv  to  the 
Seagull.  "  We  played  a  sort  of  '  Pussy- Wants-a- 
Corner '  exchange,  Jock  and  me,''  he  said,  "  for 
Jock  was  Number  Four  or  '  Trainer  '  of  the  crew  of 
one  of  the  fo'c'sle  guns  of  the  Bow,  and  I  was  the 
same  in  the  Seagull.  We  didn't  quite  land  in  each 
other's  place  when  the  wallop  came,  but  it  wasn't 


10 


SEA-HOUNDS 


far  from  it;  and  we  each  finished  the  scrap  in  the 
other  guy's  ship.  You  might  pike  aft  and  try  to 
get  a  yarn  out  of  Jock  when  '  Pack  up ! '  sounds. 
He's  a  close-mouthed  tyke,  though,  and  if  you  can 
get  him  to  tell  how  he  played  the  human  proj,  you'll 
be  doing  more'n  anyone  else  has  been  able  to  pull 
off  down  to  now.  He's  half  clam  and  half  sphinx, 
I  think  Jock  is,  and  that  makes  a  '  dour  lad '  when 
crossed  with  a  '  Glasgie '  strain.  Which  makes  it 
all  the  sadder  to  have  him  qualify  for  membership 
in  the  '  Black  Marias/  and  me,  because  I  finished 
in  the  Bow,  froze  out." 

I  told  him  that  I  would  gladly  have  a  try  at 
Jock  later,  provided  only  that  he  would  first  tell  me 
what  happened  in  his  own  case,  adding  that  it 
wasn't  every  British  sailor  who  could  claim  the  dis- 
tinction of  fighting  the  Hun  from  two  different 
ships  within  the  hour. 

"  It  would  have  been  a  darned  sight  better  for  me 
if  I'd  confined  my  fighting  to  one  ship/'  he  replied 
with  a  wry  smile,  "  and  it  was  mighty  little  fighting 
I  got  out  of  it  anyhow.  But  sure,  I'll  tell  you  what 
I  saw  of  the  fracas,  and  then  you  can  take  a  chance 
at  Jock.  It  was  along  toward  midnight,  and  the 
Seagull  was  steaming  in  <  line  ahead  '  with  her  half 
of  the  flotilla.  The  Killarney  and  Firebrand  was 
leading  us,  with  the  Wreath  and  one  or  two  others 
astern.  I  was  at i  action  station  '  with  the  crew  of 
the  foremost  gun,  and  keeping  my  eye  peeled  all 
round,  for  some  of  the  ships  astern  had  just  been 


THE  MEN  WHO  CHANGED  SHIPS      11 

popping  away  at  some  Hun  destroyers  they  had 
reported.  All  of  a  sudden  I  saw  the  officers  on  the 
bridge  peering  out  to  starboard,  and  there,  coming 
up  astern  of  us  and  steering  a  converging  course,  I 
saw  the  first,  and  right  after,  the  second  and  third, 
of  a  line  of  some  big  lumping  ships — some  kind  of 
cruisers.  All  of  the  flotilla  must  have  thought  they 
was  our  own  ships,  for  no  one  challenged  or  fired 
all  the  time  they  came  drawing  up  past  us,  making 
four  or  five  knots  more  than  the  seventeen  we  were 
doing. 

"  When  the  leader  was  about  abreast  the  Kil- 
larney  and  inside  of  half  a  mile  range,  she  flashed 
on  some  red  and  green  lights,  switched  on  her 
searchlights  and  opened  fire.  Ship  for  ship,  the 
Huns  were  just  about  even  with  our  line  now,  and 
the  Firebrand  and  Seagull  must  have  launched 
mouldies  at  the  second  and  third  cruisers  at  near 
the  same  moment.  Hitting  at  that  range  ships 
running  on  parallel  courses  was  a  cinch,  and  both 
slugs  slipped  home.  It  was  some  sight,  those  two 
spouts  of  fire  and  smoke  shooting  up  together,  and 
by  the  light  of  'em  I  could  see  that  the  Firebrand's 
bag  was  a  four-funneller,  and  ours  a  three.  The 
first  one  keeled  right  over  and  began  to  sink  at 
once,  but  the  one  our  mouldie  hit  went  staggering 
on,  though  down  by  the  stern  and  with  a  heavy 
list  to  port. 

"  We  would  sure  have  put  the  kibosh  on  this  one 
with  the  next  torpedo  if  we  hadn't  had  to  turn 


12 


SEA-HOUNDS 


sharp  to  port  to  avoid  the  Killarney  just  then,  and 
so  missed  our  last  chance  to  do  something  in  '  the 
Great  War.'  I  lost  sight  of  the  Firebrand  and  took 
it  for  granted  she  had  been  blown  up.  It  was  not 
till  a  week  afterwards  that  we  learned  she  had 
turned  the  other  way,  engaged  one  Hun  cruiser 
with  gunfire,  rammed  another,  just  missed  being 
rammed  by  a  third,  and  finally  crawled  into  port 
under  her  own  steam. 

"  The  Seagull  came  under  the  searchlights  of  the 
leading  Hun  cruiser  for  a  few  seconds  as  she  came 
up  abreast  of  the  burning  Killarney,  and  then  the 
smoke  and  steam  cut  off  the  beam  and  I  was  blind 
as  a  bat  for  a  minute.  The  Killarney  had  been  left 
astern  when  I  looked  for  her  again,  and  seemed  all 
in,  with  fires  all  over  her  and  only  one  gun  yapping 
away  on  her  quarter-deck.  I  didn't  know  it  at  the 
time,  but  it  was  my  old  college  friend,  Gains,  here, 
who  was  passing  the  projes,  for  that  pert  little 
piece.  You'd  never  think  it  to  look  at  him,  would 
you?"  Gains,  feigning  to  discover  something 
which  needed  adjustment  in  the  training  mechan- 
ism, clucked  his  head  behind  the  breech  of  his  gun 
at  this  juncture,  and  did  not  bob  up  again  until  a 
resumption  of  the  yarn  deflected  the  centre  of 
interest  back  to  Number  Two. 

"  Turning  to  port  took  us  over  into  the  line  of  the 
other  Division,  and  the  first  thing  I  knew  the  Sea- 
gull had  poked  in  and  taken  station  astern  of  the 
Boiv,  which  was  leading  it.  Just  then  some  Hun 


GERMAN  SHELLS  STRIKING  THE  WATER  AT  THE   BATTLE  OF  JUTLAND 


A    BROADSIDE    AT    NIGHT    AT    THE    BATTLE    OF    JUTLAND 


THE  MEN  WHO  CHANGED  SHIPS      13 

ship,  I  think  it  was  the  same  one  that  strafed  the 
Killarney,  opened  on  the  Bow  from  starboard,  the 
bursting  shell  splashing  all  over  her  from  the  fun- 
nels right  for'ard.  Bow  turned  sharp  to  port  to 
try  to  shake  off  the  searchlights,  and  Seagull 
altered  at  same  time  to  keep  from  turning  in  her 
wake  and  running  into  the  shells  she  was  side- 
stepping. All  of  a  sudden  I  saw  another  destroyer 
steering  right  across  our  bows,  and  to  keep  from 
ramming  her  the  captain  altered  back  to  star- 
jjoard.  That  cleared  her  stern  by  an  eyelash,  but 
the  next  second  I  saw  that  it  was  now  only  a  ques- 
tion of  whether  Seagull  would  ram  Bow,  or  Bow 
would  ram  Seagull.  How  a  dished  and  done-for 
quartermaster,  falling  across  his  wheel  as  he  died, 
decided  it  in  favour  of  Bow  I  did  not  learn  till  later. 

"The  Hun  shells  were  tearing  up  the  water 
astern  of  the  Boiv  for  half  a  minute  as  she  began  to 
close  us;  then  they  stopped,  and  the  smash  came 
at  the  end  of  five  or  ten  seconds  of  dead  quiet.  It 
was  pitchy  dark,  with  the  flicker  of  fires  on  the 
deck  of  the  Bow  making  trembly  red  splotches  in 
the  smoke  and  steam.  A  sight  I  saw  by  the  light 
of  one  of  those  fires  just  before  the  wallop  is  my 
main  memory  of  all  the  hell  I  saw  in  the  next 
quarter  hour.  It  has  lasted  just  as  if  it  was  burned 
into  my  brain  with  a  hot  iron,  and  it  figures  in  one 
way  or  other  in  every  nightmare  I've  had  since." 

The  humorous  twinkle  in  the  corner  of  the  man's 
eye,  which  had  persisted  during  all  of  his  recital  up 


SEA-HOUNDS 

to  this  point,  suddenly  died  out,  and  he  was  staring 
into  nothingness  straight  ahead  of  him,  where  the 
picture  his  memory  conjured  up  seemed  to  hang  in 
projection. 

"  It  was  just  before  we  struck/'  he  went  on, 
speaking  slowly,  and  in  an  awed  voice  strangely  in 
contrast  to  the  rather  bantering  tone  he  had 
affected  before ;  "  and  the  bows  of  the  Bow  were 
only  ten  or  fifteen  yards  off,  driving  down  on  us  in 
the  middle  of  the  double  wave  of  greeny-grey  foam 
they  were  throwing  on  both  sides.  By  the  light  of 
a  fire  burning  in  the  wreck  of  her  bridge  I  saw  a  lot 
of  bodies  lying  round  on  her  foVsF,  and  right  then 
one  of  them  picked  itself  up  and  stood  on  its  feet. 
It  was  a  whole  man  from  the  chest  up,  and  from  a 
bit  below  the  waist  down,  but — for  all  that  I  could 
see — nothing  between.  Of  course,  there  must  have 
been  an  unbroken  backbone  to  make  a  frame  that 
would  stand  up  at  all,  but  all  the  shot-away  part 
was  in  shadow,  so  I  saw  nothing  from  the  chest  to 
the  hips.  It  was  just  as  if  the  head  and  shoulders 
were  floating  in  the  air.  I  remember  'specially 
that  it  held  its  cap  crushed  tight  in  one  of  its  hands. 
The  face  had  a  kind  of  a  calm  look  on  it  at  first. 
Then  it  turned  down  and  seemed  to  look  at  what 
was  gone,  and  I  could  see  the  mouth  open  as  if  to 
holler.  Then  the  crash  came,  and  I  didn't  see  it 
again  till  they  were  stitching  it  up  in  canvas  with 
a  fire-bar  before  dropping  it  overside  the  next  day. 
I  learned  then  that  an  8-inch  shell  had  done  the 


THE  MEN  WHO  CHANGED  SHIPS      15 

trick — rather  a  big  order  for  one  man  to  try  to 
stop." 

He  took  a  deep  breath,  blinked  once  or  twice  as 
though  to  shut  out  the  gruesome  vision,  and  when 
he  resumed  the  corners  of  a  sheepish  grin  were 
cutting  into  and  erasing  the  lines  of  horror  that 
had  come  to  his  face  in  describing  it. 

"  There's  no  use  of  my  claiming  that  I  was 
thrown  over  to  the  Bow  by  the  shock,"  he  con- 
tinued, the  twinkle  flickering  up  in  his  eye  again, 
"  like  Jock  was  pitched  over  to  the  Seagull.  That 
did  happen  to  three  or  four  ratings  from  the  Sea- 
gull, though,  one  signalman  and  a  chap  standing 
look-out  being  chucked  all  the  way  from  the  fore 
bridge.  But  in  the  case  of  most  of  the  twenty- 
three  of  us  who  found  ourselves  adorning  the  Bow's 
foVsl'  when  the  ships  broke  away,  it  was  the  result 
of  a  '  flap '  started  by  some  ijits  yelling  that  we 
were  cut  in  two  and  going  down.  What  was  more 
natural,  then,  with  the  Bow  looming  up  there  big 
and  solid — she  was  a  good  sight  larger  than  the 
Gull — that  the  '  rats  '  should  leave  the  sinking  ship 
for  one  that  looked  like  she  might  go  on  floating  for 
a  while.  I'm  not  trying  to  make  an  excuse  for  what 
happened,  but  only  explaining  it.  The  Lord  knows 
we  paid  a  big  enough  price  for  it,  anyhow. 

"  The  Bow  hit  us  like  a  thousand  o'  bricks  just 
before  the  bridge,  and  cut  more  than  half-way 
through  to  the  port  side.  The  shock  seemed  to 
knock  the  deck  right  out  from  under  my  feet,  and  I 


16 


SEA-HOUNDS 


was  slammed  hard  against  the  starboard  wire  rail, 
which  must  have  kept  me  from  being  ditched  then 
and  there.  A  lot  of  the  wreckage  from  the  Bow's 
shot-up  bridge  showered  down  on  the  Seagull's 
fo'c'sP,  but  my  friend,  Jock  Campbell,  floated  down 
on  the  side  toward  the  bridge,  so  I  had  no  chance 
to  welcome  him.  From  where  I  was  when  I  pulled 
up  to  my  feet,  it  looked  as  if  the  Bow  only  lacked 
a  few  feet  from  cutting  all  the  way  through  us,  and 
as  soon  as  I  saw  her  screws  beating  up  the  sea  as 
she  tried  to  go  astern,  I  had  the  feeling  that  the 
whole  fo'c'sl'  of  the  Gull  must  break  off  and  sink 
as  soon  as  the  '  plug '  was  pulled  out.  I  was  still 
sitting  tight,  though,  when  that  howl  started  that 
we  were  already  breaking  off  and  going  down,  and 
— well,  I  joined  the  rush,  and  it  was  just  as  easy 
as  stepping  from  a  launch  to  the  side  of  a  quay. 
I'm  not  trying  to  make  out  a  case  for  anybody,  but 
the  little  bunch  of  us  who  climbed  >to  the  Bow  from 
that  half-cut-off  foVsl'  sure  had  more  excuse  than 
them  that  swarmed  over  from  aft  and  leaving  the 
main  solid  lump  of  the  ship.  But  we  none  of  us 
had  no  business  clambering  off  till  we  were 
ordered.  In  doing  that  we  were  only  asking  for 
trouble,  and  we  sure  got  it. 

"  The  fo'c'sr  of  the  Bow  was  all  buckled  up  in 
waves  from  the  collision,  and  there  was  a  slipperi- 
ness  underfoot  that  I  twigged  didn't  come  from  sea 
water  just  as  soon  as  I  stumbled  over  the  bodies 
lying  round  the  wreck  of  the  port  foremost  gun 


THE  MEN  WHO  CHANGED  SHIPS      17 

where  I  climbed  over.  We  couldn't  get  aft  very 
well  on  account  of  the  smashed  bridge,  and  so  the 
bunch  of  us  just  huddled  up  there  like  a  lot  of 
sheep,  waiting  for  some  one  to  tell  us  what  to  do. 
The  captain  had  already  left  the  bridge  and  was 
conning  her  from  aft — or  possibly  the  engine-room 
— at  this  time.  From  the  way  she  was  shaking  and 
swinging,  I  knew  they  were  trying  to  worry  her 
nose  out,  putting  the  engines  astern,  now  one  and 
now  the  other.  The  clanking  and  the  grinding  was 
something  fierce,  but  pretty  soon  she  began  to 
back  clear. 

"  It  was  just  a  minute  or  two  before  the  Bow  tore 
free  from  her  that  the  poor  old  Gull  got  the  wallop 
that  was  finally  responsible  for  doing  her  in.  This 
was  from  a  destroyer  that  came  charging  up  out  of 
the  night  and  wasn't  able  to  turn  in  time  to  clear 
the  Gull's  stern,  with  the  result  that  she  went 
right  through  it.  Her  sharp  stem  slashed  through 
the  quarterdeck  like  it  was  cutting  bully  beef,  slic- 
ing five  or  ten  feet  of  it  clean  off,  so  that  it  fell 
clear  and  sank.  The  jar  of  it  ran  through  the  whole 
length  of  the  Seagull,  and  I  felt  the  quick  kick  of  it 
even  in  the  Bow.  In  fact,  I  think  the  shock  of  this 
second  collision  was  the  thing  that  finally  broke 
them  clear  of  the  first,  for  it  was  just  after  that  I 
saw  the  wreck  of  the  Seagull's  bridge  begin  to  slide 
away  along  the  Bow's  starboard  bow,  as  what  was 
left  of  it  wriggled  clear. 

"  It  wasn't  much  of  a  look  I  had  at  this  last 


18  SEA-HOUNDS 

destroyer,  but  I  had  a  hunch  even  then  that  she  was 
the  Wreath,  who  had  been  our  next  astern.  It 
wasn't  till  a  long  time  afterward  that  I  learned  for 
certain  that  this  was  a  fact.  The  Wreath  had  fol- 
lowed us  out  of  line  when  we  turned  to  clear  the 
stopped  and  burning  Killarney,  and  then,  when  we 
messed  up  with  the  Bow,  not  having  time  to  go 
round,  she  had  to  take  a  short  cut  through  the  tail 
feathers  of  the  poor  old  Seagull.  Then  she  tore 
right  on  hell-for-leather  hunting  for  Huns,  for  it's 
each  ship  for  herself  and  the  devil  take  the  hind- 
most in  the  destroyer  game  more  than  in  any 
other. 

"  I  saw  the  water  boiling  into  the  hole  in  the  side 
of  the  Seagull  as  the  Bow  backed  away,  and  ex- 
pected every  minute  to  see  the  for'rard  end  of  her 
break  off  and  sink.  But  beyond  settling  down  a  lot 
by  the  head,  she  still  held  together  and  still 
floated.  Bulkheads  fore  and  aft  were  holding,  it 
looked  like,  and  there  was  still  enough  i  ship '  left 
to  carry  on  with.  I  could  hardly  believe  my  eyes 
when  I  saw  the  blurred  wreck  of  her  begin  to  gather 
stern  way.  But  it  was  a  fact.  Though  her  rudder, 
of  course,  was  smashed  or  carried  away,  and  though 
she  couldn't  go  ahead  without  breaking  in  two,  she 
was  still  able  to  move  through  the  water,  and  per- 
haps even  to  steer  a  rough  sort  of  course  with  her 
screws.  As  it  turned  out,  it  wouldn't  have  made 
no  difference  whether  we  was  in  her  or  no;  but 
just  the  same  it  was  blooming  awful,  standing 


THE  MEN  WHO  CHANGED  SHIPS      19 

there  and  knowing  that  you'd  left  her  while  she 
still  had  a  kick  in  her.  The  ragged  line  where  some 
of  the  wrecked  stern  of  her  showed  against  the 
phosphorescent  glow  of  the  churn  of  her  screws — 
that  was  my  good-bye  peep  at  all  that  was  left  of 
the  good  old  Seagull.  Gains  here,  or  Jock  Camp- 
bell, can  tell  you  what  her  finish  was.  I  don't  like 
to  talk  about  it. 

"  Some  of  us  tried  to  get  aft  as  soon  as  we  were 
clear  of  the  Seagull,  but  couldn't  make  the  grade 
over  the  wreck  of  the  bridge.  As  all  the  officers 
and  men  who  had  been  there  had  either  been  killed 
or  wounded,  or  had  gone  to  the  after  steering  posi- 
tion they  were  now  conning  her  from,  we  were  as 
much  cut  off  from  them  as  though  we  were  on 
another  craft  altogether.  All  the  crews  of  her 
fo'c'sl'  guns — or  such  of  them  as  were  still  alive — 
were  in  the  same  fix.  So  we  just  bunched  up  there 
in  the  dark  and  waited.  Some  of  the  wounded  were 
in  beastly  shape,  but  there  wasn't  much  to  be  done 
for  them,  even  in  the  way  of  first  aid.  Some  ship- 
mates of  other  times  drifted  together  in  the  dark- 
ness, and  I  remember  'specially — it  was  while  I 
was  trying  to  tie  up  some  guy's  scalp  with  the 
sleeve  of  my  shirt — hearing  one  of  them  telling 
another  of  a  wool  mat  he  had  just  made,  all  with 
ravellings  from  '  Harry  Freeman.'*  Funny  how 
it's  the  little  things  like  that  a  man  remembers. 

*The  bluejackets'  name  for  knitted  woollen  gifts  from  friends 
on  the  beach. 


20  SEA-HOUNDS 

The  gunner  whose  head  I  bound  up  was  telling  me 
just  how  the  Bow  happened  to  be  strafed,  but  it 
went  in  one  ear  and  out  of  the  other. 

"  But  the  queerest  thing  was  me  hearing  some 
guy  lying  all  messed  up  on  the  deck  muttering 
something  about  skookum  kluches,  and  some  more 
Chinook  wa-wa  that  I  knew  he  couldn't  have  picked 
up  anywhere  else  but  from  serving  in  a  '  T.B.D.7 
working  up  and  down  the  old  Inland  Passage  from 
Vancouver  Island.  I  felt  my  way  to  where  he  was 
huddled  up  in  the  wreck  of  a  smashed  gun,  told  him 
that  I  was  another  tilicum  from  the  'Squiraalt 
Base,  and  asked  him  what  ship  he  had  been  there 
in.  I  knew  there  was  a  good  chance  that  we'd  been 
mates  in  the  old  Virago,  and  there  even  seemed  a 
familiar  sound  to  his  voice.  But  I  wasn't  fated 
ever  to  find  out.  He  just  kept  on  muttering,  slip- 
ping up  on  some  words  as  if  something  was  wrong 
with  his  mouth,  and  I  didn't  dare  light  a  match,  of 
course.  When  I  tried  to  ease  him  up  a  bit  by  lift- 
ing so  he'd  lie  straight — well,  all  of  him  didn't 
seem  to  come  along  when  I  started  dragging  by  his 
shoulders.  I  never  did  find  what  was  wrong 
with  him,  for  right  then  new  troubles  of  my  own 
set  in. 

"  I  was  still  down  on  my  knees  trying  to  locate 
what  was  missing  with  this  poor  guy,  when — out  of 
the  corner  of  my  eye,  for  it  was  near  behind  me — I 
spotted  the  flash  of  a  ship  challenging.  Bow  chal- 
lenged back — from  somewhere  aft — and  then  what 


THE  MEN  WHO  CHANGED  SHIPS      21 

I  piped  at  once  for  a  Hun  destroyer  switched  on 
searchlights  and  opened  fire.  She  was  about  two 
cables  off  on  our  port  quarter,  heading  right  for  us 
and  blazing  away  with  one  or  two  guns,  probably 
all  that  would  bear  on  that  course.  A  second  de- 
stroyer, right  astern  her,  didn't  seem  to  be  firing.  I 
heard  the  bang  and  saw  the  flash  of  two  or  three 
shells  bursting  somewhere  amidships,  and  then  the 
Bow's  port  after  gun  began  to  reply.  The  crews 
of  all  the  others  were  knocked  out,  and  so  were 
the  searchlights. 

"  Between  the  twenty-three  from  the  Seagull  and 
what  were  left  of  the  Bow's  foVsl'  guns'  crews, 
there  must  have  been  thirty-five  to  forty  men 
bunched  together  there  forward  of  the  wreck  of  the 
bridge.  When  the  firing  started,  the  whole  ka- 
boodle  of  us  did  what  you're  always  under  orders  to 
do  when  you  have  nothing  to  stand  up  for — laid 
down.  Or,  rather,  we  just  tumbled  into  a  heap  like 
a  pile  of  dead  rabbits. 

"  I  went  sprawling  over  the  poor  devil  I  was  try- 
ing to  help,  and  there  were  two  or  three  on  top  of 
me.  Into  that  squirming  hump  of  human  flesh  one 
of  the  Hun's  projes  landed  kerplump.  It  didn't 
hit  me  at  all,  that  one,  but  I  can  feel  yet  the  kind 
of  heave  the  whole  bunch  gave  as  it  ploughed 
through.  Then  it  was  like  warm  water  was  being 
thrown  on  the  pile  in  buckets,  but  it  wasn't  till  I 
had  scrambled  out  and  found  it  sticky  that  I 
twigged  it  was  blood. 


22  SEA-HOUNDS 

"  Bad  as  it  was,  it  might  have  been  a  lot  worse. 
There  hadn't  been  enough  resistance  to  explode  the 
proj,  and  so  it  killed  only  four  or  five  and  wounded, 
maybe,  twice  that,  where  it  would  have  scoured 
every  man  jack  of  us  into  the  sea  and  Kingdom 
Come  if  it  had  gone  off.  The  next  one  found  some- 
thing in  the  wreck  of  the  bridge  hard  enough  to 
crack  it  off  though,  and  it  was  a  ragged  scrap  of 
its  casing  that  drove  in  to  the  point  of  my  hip  and 
put  a  kink  in  my  rolling  gait  that  I've  never  quite 
shaken  out  yet.  It  wasn't  much  of  a  hurt  to  what 
it  gave  some,  though,  'specially  a  lad  that  caught 
the  main  kick  of  it  and  got  ditched  to  starboard, 
some  of  him  going  under  the  wire  rail,  and  some 
over. 

"  The  Huns  couldn't  have  known  how  down  and 
out  the  Bow  really  was,  for  there  was  nothing  in 
the  world  but  that  one  port  gun  to  prevent  their 
closing  and  polishing  her  off.  The  chances  are  they 
recognised  her  class,  knew  she  was  more  than  a 
match  for  the  pair  of  them  if  she  was  right,  and 
were  glad  to  get  off  with  no  more'n  an  exchange  of 
shots  in  passing.  That  was  the  end  of  the  fighting 
for  the  Bow,  and  about  time,  too.  Her  bows  were 
stove  in,  all  the  fore  part  of  her  was  full  of  water, 
her  bridge  was  smashed  and  useless,  her  W.T.  and 
searchlights  were  finished,  all  but  one  gun  was  out 
of  action,  and — when  they  came  to  count  noses 
next  day — forty-two  of  her  crew  were  dead.  Far 
from  looking  for  more  trouble,  it  was  now  only  a 


THE  MEN  WHO  CHANGED  SHIPS      23 

question  of  making  harbour,  and  even  that — as  it 
turned  out — was  touch-and-go  for  two  days. 

"  It  was  about  one  in  the  morning  when  that 
brush  with  the  destroyers  came  off,  and  after  that 
there  was  nothing  to  do  but  hang  on  till  daylight 
and  they  could  clear  a  way  to  reach  us  from  abaft 
the  wreckage  of  the  bridge.  It  was  pretty  awful, 
ticking  off  the  minutes  there  in  the  darkness.  A 
good  many  of  the  worst  knocked  about  were  talking 
a  bit  wild,  but  I  never  heard  the  guy  with  the 
Chinook  wa-wa  again.  He  must  have  died  and  been 
pitched  over  while  I  was  being  bandaged  up.  I  did 
hear  the  *  wool-mat-maker '  yapping  again,  though, 
saying  how  '  target  cloth  *  was  better  to  work  on 
than  canvas,  and  describing  how  to  pull  the  stuff 
through  in  a  loose  loop,  and  then  cut  them  so  that 
they  bunched  up  in  *  soft,  puffy  balls.'  Seems  like 
I  was  cussing  him  when  I  dropped  off  to  sleep. 

"  I  must  have  bled  a  good  deal,  for  I  slept  like  a 
log  for  four  or  five  hours,  and  woke  up  only  when 
some  one  turned  me  over  and  began  to  finger  my 
hip.  It  was  broad  daylight,  but  hazy,  and  the  sun 
just  showing  through.  Some  of  the  wounded  had 
already  been  carried  aft,  and  they  were  mostly  dead 
ones  that  were  lying  around.  These  were  being 
sewed  up  in  canvas  to  get  ready  to  bury.  I 
thought  there  was  something  familiar  in  the  face 
of  one  guy  I  saw  them  laying  out  and  sort  of  col- 
lecting together,  but  it  wasn't  till  later  that  it 
suddenly-  came  to  me  that  he  was  the  one  I  had  seen 


24 


SEA-HOUNDS 


by  firelight  when  he  stood  up  and  looked  at  himself 
where  he'd  been  shot  in  two. 

"  The  two  guys  who  bundled  me  up  in  a  <  Neil 
Robertson '  stretcher  and  packed  me  aft,  picking 
their  way  over  and  through  the  wreckage,  were 
both  all  bound  up  with  rags,  and  so  was  about 
every  one  else  I  saw.  They  took  me  below  into  the 
wardroom,  and  then,  because  that  was  full  up,  on 
to  some  officer's  cabin,  where  they  found  a  place 
for  me  on  the  deck.  After  a  while,  a  little  dark  guy 
— he  was  also  a  good  deal  bandaged,  and  so 
splashed  with  blood  that  I  didn't  notice  at  the 
time  he  was  a  sick  bay  steward — came  in,  washed 
my  wound  out  with  some  dope  that  smarted  like 
the  devil,  and  tied  it  up.  He  worked  like  a  streak 
of  greased  lightning,  and  then  went  on  to  some  one 
else.  That  chap  was  Pridmore,  and,  let  me  tell  you, 
he  was  the  real  ( top-liner  '  of  all  the  heroes  of  the 
Bow.  The  surgeon  had  been  killed  at  the  first 
salvo  the  night  before,  leaving  no  one  but  him  to 
carry  on  through  all  the  hell  that  followed.  And 
some  way — God  knows  how — he  did  it;  yes,  even 
though  he  was  wounded  three  or  four  times  him- 
self, and  though  he  had  to  go  without  sleep  for 
more'n  two  days  to  find  time  to  dress  and  tend  the 
thirty  or  forty  crocks  he  had  on  his  hands.  He  was 
sure  the  star  turn,  that  Pridmore,  and  I  was  glad 
to  read  the  other  day  that  they  had  given  him  the 
D.S.M.  Not  that  he'd  have  all  he  deserved  if  they 
hung  medals  all  over  him;  but — well,  a  guy  likes 


THE  MEN  WHO  CHANGED  SHIPS      25 

to  have  something  to  show  that  what  he's  done 
hasn't  been  lost  in  the  shuffle  entirely.'7 

I  made  an  entry  of  "  Pridmore,  sick  bay  steward, 
Bow"  in  my  notebook  for  future  reference,  and  as 
I  was  returning  it  to  my  pocket  a  sudden  list  to 
starboard,  accompanied  by  a  throbbing  grind  of 
the  helm,  heralded  a  sharp  alteration  of  course. 
Round  she  went  through  ten  or  twelve  points, 
finally  to  steady  and  stand  away  on  a  course  that 
seemed  to  lead  toward  the  dip  in  the  skyline  be- 
tween the  jagged  range  of  mountains  back  of 
Monastir  and  the  point  where  a  lowering  bank  of 
cirro-cumuli  hid  the  ancient  abode  of  the  gods  on 
the  snow-capped  summit  of  Olympus.  On  Number 
Two  assuring  me  that  his  yarn  was  spun,  that  there 
was  nothing  more  to  it  save  an  attempt  he  had 
made,  in  spite  of  his  wound,  to  get  into  a  fight 
that  started  when  some  of  the  wounded  were  hissed 
by  a  gang  of  dockyard  "  mateys  " — I  clambered 
back  to  the  bridge  to  learn  the  significance  of  the 
new  move.  I  still  wanted  to  hear  Gains'  story  of 
the  Killarney,  but  I  had  already  sized  him  up 
sufficiently  to  know  that  he  was  not  the  type  of  man 
who  would  unbosom  himself  before  his  mates. 
With  him,  I  knew,  I  should  have  to  watch  my 
chances,  and  endeavour  to  have  a  yarn  alone. 
Number  Two's  parting  injunction  was  to  "  try  and 
have  a  go  at  Jock  Campbell,  <  the  human  proj.' 
Jock's  the  guy  at  the  after  gun  that  looks  like  he 
was  rigged  out  for  deep-sea  diving,''  he  said. 


26 


SEA-HOUNDS 


"  Most  likely  he'll  only  growl  at  you  at  first,  but  if 
he  won't  warm  up  any  other  way,  try  him  with  a 
yarn  about  a  skirt.  He's  <  verra  fond  o'  a  braw 
lass,'  is  Jock  Campbell." 

Our  alteration  of  course,  the  captain  told  me, 
was  the  consequence  of  an  order  received  by  wire- 
less directing  him  to  cross  over  and  hunt  down  a 
strip  along  the  western  shore  of  the  gulf  which  was 
not  being  covered  by  the  present  formation  of  the 
division,  "  I've  had  a  signal  stating  that  they're 
on  the  track  of  one  U-boat,  and  there  may  be  some- 
thing to  make  them  think  another  has  slipped 
further  along  and  is  lying  in  ambush  for  the  con- 
voy about  off  Volo.  They're  evidently  keeping  the 
rest  of  the  division  heading  in  to  meet  the  convoy 
itself." 

The  Spark  stood  on  to  the  north-west  until  the 
Vardar  marshes  showed  as  an  olive-green  rim 
around  the  bend  of  the  gulf,  before  turning  south- 
ward again  to  skirt  the  steep  shingle-strewn  beach 
along  the  alluvial  "  fans  "  spreading  down  to  the 
sea  from  the  base  of  Olympus.  The  wild-looking 
Thessalian  shepherds  were  just  driving  their  mot- 
ley flocks  down  to  the  open  foreshore  to  freshen  up 
in  the  rising  midday  sea  breeze,  and  it  wras  when  I 
assured  Jock  Campbell  (where  I  found  him  leaning 
on  the  breech  of  the  after  gun  and  staring  land- 
wards with  his  bushy  brows  puckered  in  the  incred- 
ulous scowl  of  a  man  who  can't  credit  the  evidence 


THE  MEN  WHO  CHANGED  SHIPS      27 

of  his  own  eyes)  that  it  was  an  actual  fact  that  the 
fuzzy  black  sheep  were  wading  in  and  drinking — if 
sparingly — of  the  salt  water,  that  a  basis  of  con- 
versation was  finally  established.  Up  to  that 
moment  he  had  given  no  sign  that  any  of  my  care- 
lessly thrown  out  tentatives  had  penetrated  to  his 
ears  through  the  "  telepad "  rig-out  which  estab- 
lished his  connection  with  the  gunnery  control. 
But  when,  bringing  my  lips  close  to  his  nearest 
"  ear-muff,"  I  shouted  that  I  had  come  up  along 
that  coast  from  Lharissa  but  a  few  weeks  previ- 
ously by  motor  and  pack-train,  and  that,  in  lieu 
of  any  fresh  water  for  many  miles  in  either  direc- 
tion, I  had  actually  seen  the  sheep  and  goats 
drinking  in  flocks  from  the  sea,  the  look  of  hostile 
suspicion  in  his  eyes  was  replaced  by  one  of  friendly 
interest. 

"Weel,  weel,  y'u  dinna  say  so?"  he  ejaculated, 
easing  away  the  edge  of  the  helmet  over  one  ear; 
"  the  puir  wee  beasties ! "  Then  he  volunteered 
that  he  had  once  kept  from  freezing  to  death  in  a 
snowstorm  on  Ben  Nevis  by  curling  up  among  his 
sheep,  and  I  told  how  I  had  once  sheared  sheep 
(not  mentioning  it  was  for  only  half  a  day,  and 
that  my  "  clip  "  was  composed  of  about  equal  parts 
mutton  and  wool)  on  a  back  blocks  station  in 
Queensland.  Then  he  described  how  he  had  seen  a 
big  merino  ram  butt  a  Ford  car  off  the  road  up 
Thurso  way,  and  I — with  more  finesse  than 
veracity — capped  that  with  a  yarn  of  how  I  had 


28 


SEA-HOUNDS 


seen  a  flock  of  Macedonian  sheep  blown  up  by  a 
Bulgarian  air-bomb,  and  how  one  of  them  had 
landed  unhurt  upon  a  passing  motor  lorry  load  of 
forage — and  gone  right  on  grazing!  I  reckoned 
that  might  be  calculated  to  remind  Jock  of  some- 
thing of  the  same  character  which  had  befallen  him 
on  a  certain  memorable  occasion,  and  I  was  not 
disappointed. 

"  Twas  verra  like  wha'  cam  ma  way  on  the  nicht 
the  Bow  rammed  the  Seagull  at  the  fecht  aff  Jut- 
land," he  commented  instantly,  with  no  trace  of 
suspicion  in  his  voice.  "  Wad  ye  care  to  hear 

aboot  it?  Ye  wud?  Weel,  then ."  As  brief, 

as  direct  and  to  the  point  was  the  plain  unvar- 
nished tale  Jock  Campbell  told  me  the  while  a 
noon-day  storm  awoke  reverberant  echoes  of  the 
Jovian  thunders  in  the  snow-caverns  of  Olympus 
and  the  Spark  hunted  down  through  the  jade  green 
waters  of  the  Thessalian  coast  for  a  U-boat  that 
was  supposed  to  be  lurking  in  their  lucent  depths 
"  somewhere  off  Volo." 

"Ah  was  at  ma  action  station  at  the  port  fore- 
most gun,"  he  began,  wiping  his  perspiring  brow 
with  a  wad  of  greasy  waste,  which  left  an  undulant 
trail  of  oil  from  the  recoil  cylinder  in  its  wake, 
"when  we  gaed  bang  into  a  line  o'  big  Hun 
cru'sers,  and  we  lat  blaze  at  them  and  them  at  us. 
The  range  was  short,  and  wP  their  serchlichts 
lichten  us  up  oor  position  wasna  that  Ah  wad  ca' 
verra  pleasant.  Up  gaed  a  Hun  cru'ser  in  a  spoort 


THE  MEN  WHO  CHANGED  SHIPS      29 

o'  flame  and  reek,  hit,  Ah  thocht,  by  a  mouldie 
launched  by  oor  next  astern.  Ah  was  fair  jumpin' 
wF  joy  at  the  sicht,  when  a  hale  salvo  o'  screechin' 
projes  cam  bang  inta  the  fo'c'sF.  Ah  minded  the 
licht  o'  them  mair  than  the  soun',  which  was  na 
great. 

"  The  Huns  had  switched  aff  their  serchlichts 
when  they  opened  fire,  so  that  noo  the  projes  was 
bursting  in  inky  mirk.  I  doubtna  oor  midships  and 
after  guns  was  firing,  but  na  the  foremost,  for  Ah 
dinna  mind  being  blinded  by  their  licht  afore  the 
Hun  projes  gan  bursting.  My  ain  gun  wudna  bear 
on  the  Huns,  so  Ah  was  just  standing  by  for  the 
time,  ready  to  train  if  we  turned. 

"  Twa  salvos  cam — maybe  frae  twa  different 
cru'sers — ane  after  the  ither,  wF  aboot  half  a 
meenit  atween.  Ye  ken  that  the  licht  o'  a  sh^ll- 
burst  is  ower  afore  ye  can  even  think,  and  a'  the 
furst  ane  showed  me  was  just  the  gun  crews, 
standing  and  bracin'  themseFs  like  when  a  big  sea 
braks  inboard.  It  was  ower  like  a  flash  o'  lichtnin, 
and  the  licht  had  gone  oot  afore  Ah  saw  anybody 
blown  up  or  knocked  oot.  But  Ah  felt  a  michty 
blast  o'  air  and  an  awfu'  shaikin  o'  the  deck,  and 
then  the  bang  o'  lumps  o'  projes  dingin'  'gainst  the 
bridge  and  smackin'  through  bodies. 

"  The  flash  o'  the  burst  o'  the  second  salvo  tellt 
me  what  havoc  the  first  had  wrocht,  but  by  noo  ma 
een  was  licht-blind  and  Ah  cudna  see  weel.  The 
sta'bo'd  gun  was  twisht  oot  o'  shape,  and  a'  the 


30 


SEA-HOUNDS 


crew  but  ane  were  strechit  on  the  deck.  To  a' 
appearance  that  lad  had  been  laid  oot  wi'  the  ithers, 
but  noo  he  was  puin  himsel'  to  his  feet  and  crawlin' 
up  the  wreck  o'  the  gun  when  a  proj  frae  the  second 
salvo  burst  richt  alow  him.  By  the  flash  Ah  saw 
him  flyin'  inta  the  air,  and — by  the  licht  o'  anither 
flash  a  bittie  efter —  then  his  corp,  wi'  twa  or  three 
ithers,  gang  ower  the  side.  A  lump  o'  that  last 
proj  carried  awa'  the  Number  Wan  o'  ma  ain  gun, 
and,  onlike  some  o'  the  ithers,  not  a  bit  o'  him  was 
left  ahint.  Ah  meseP  was  knockit  flat,  but  wasna 
much  the  worse  for  a'  that. 

"  That  was  the  hininost  Ah  saw  o*  the  Huns  for 
that  nicht,  and  the  last  I  mind  o'  the  Bow  was  the 
dead  and  deein'  wha  covert  the  fo'c'sP,  wP  the  licht 
o'  the  fires  burnin'  aft  flickerin*  ower  them.  Then 
cam'  a  cry  frae  the  bridge  that  a  'stroyer  was  closin' 
us  to  port,  and  then  Ah  mind  hearin'  the  captain 
shoutin'  an  order  ower  and  ower,  like  he  wasna 
bein'  answered  frae  the  ither  end  o'  the  voice-pipe. 
'  Hard-a-port ! '  he  roared,  but  weel  micht  he  shout 
for  ay,  for  the  quartermaster,  wi'  a'  on  the  signal 
bridge,  was  dead  by  noo,  and  the  helm  was  left 
jammed  hard-a-sta'bo'd. 

"  Then  Ah  felt  her  shudder  as  the  engines  went 
full  speed  astern,  and  Ah  got  to  ma  feet  in  time  to 
see  she  was  headin'  straicht  for  the  foVsP  o'  a 
T.B.D.  that  was  steerin'  cross  her  bows.  And 
richt  after  that  she  must  ha'  struck  wi'  a  michty 
crash.  The  next  thing  Ah  mindit — weel,  Ah  didna 


THE  MEN  WHO  CHANGED  SHIPS      31 


mind  much  save  that  I  was  lyin'  on  ma  back  in  a 
sort  o'  narrow  way  atween  twa  high  wa's,  wF  a 
turrible  pain  in  ma  back  and  mony  sea-boots 
trampin'  ower  ma  face.  The  bashin'  o'  the  boots 
didna  hurt  me,  for  Ah  was  kind  o'  dazed;  but  Ah 
seem  to  mind  turnin'  ma  face  to  the  wa',  just  like 
ye  do  whan  the  flees  are  botherin'  ye  in  the 
mornin'. 

"  What  brocht  me  roun',  I'm  thinkin',  was  the 
shock  that  Ah  got  whan  that  wa?  ?gan  to  shak'  up 
and  doon,  and  then  slid  richt  awa',  leavin*  me 
hingin'  ower  the  brink  o'  a  black  hole,  wF  water 
souchin'  aboot  the  bottom  o't.  'Twas  like  wakin' 
oot  o'  a  bad  dream  and  findin'  that  the  warst  o'  it 
was  true. 

"  Ah  was  too  groggy  to  ken  richt  awa'  that  the 
Boio  had  rammed  anither  ship  and  that  Ah  had 
been  pitched  oot  o'  her  into  the  wan  she'd  hit. 
Quite  natteral,  Ah  thocht  masel'  still  in  the  Boiv, 
seein'  that  Ah  cud  be  nae  mair  use  on  the  fo'c'sl', 
which  was  a'  smashed  and  rippit  up  and  drappin' 
to  bits,  Ah  thocht  that  Ah  ought  to  run  aft  to  see 
if  Ah  could  gie  a  haun. 

"  But  when  Ah  tried  to  get  up,  Ah  fund  the  bane 
o'  ma  spine  was  so  sair  that  Ah  cudna  stand 
straicht,  and  a'  Ah  cud  do  was  to  craw'  and  stagger 
alang.  Every  mon  Ah  knockit  agin,  and  every  bit 
of  wreck  Ah  felt  ower,  sent  me  sprawlin'.  Whan  I 
fund  that  there  was  no  so  mony  funnels  as  Ah 
minded  afore,  and  whan  Ah  cudna  find  the  W.T. 


32 


SEA-HOUNDS 


boose,  Ah  thocht  that  they  had  been  shot  awa'. 
Findin'  a  crew  at  stations  by  a  midships  gun,  Ah 
speired  if  they  was  short  o'  hauns.  They  said  they 
werna,  so  Ah  gaed  alang  aft,  lookin*  for  a  chance 
to  be  useful. 

"  Ah  was  thinkin'  to  maseP,  '  she's  awfu'  little 
shot  up  '  ( for  ye  ken  Ah  had  expectit  her  to  be  a'  to 
bits  frae  the  way  Ah'd  heard  the  projes  burstin' 
ahint  the  bridge),  whan  a  syren  gae  a  michty 
shriek  a'  most  at  ma  lug,  and  Ah  turned  to  see 
anither  T.B.D.,  spootin'  fire  frae  her  funnels  and 
throwin'  a  double  bow  wave  higher'n  her  fo'c'sl', 
headin'  richt  inta  us.  Ah  cud  see  that  her  helm 
was  hard-a-port  by  the  way  her  wake  was  boilin', 
but  it  was  nae  guid.  She  turned  enough  to  keep 
frae  rammin'  us  midships,  but  she  cudna  miss  oor 
stern. 

"  Ah  had  just  been  tellt  by  ane  o'  the  after  gun's 
crew  to  get  oot  o'  the  wa'  (they  not  bein'  short  o' 
hauns),  whan  this  new  craft  hove  inta  sicht.  At 
first  it  lookit  like  she  wad  cut  thro'  for'ard  o'  me, 
leavin'  me  ahint  to  drown  in  the  wreck  o'  the 
stern.  Then  Ah  thocht  she  was  comin'  richt  at  me, 
and  Ah  started  crawlin'  back  to  whaur  Ah  had 
come  frae.  But  she  keepit  turnin'  and  turnin',  so 
that  she  hit  at  last  richt  abaft  the  after  gun.  Ah 
fell  a'  in  a  heap  at  the  shock,  and,  tho'  Ah  was  a 
guid  ten  feet  frae  whaur  her  stem  cut  in,  the  bulge 
o'  her  crunched  into  the  quarterdeck  till  she 
passed  sae  close  that  suthin'  stickin'  oot  frae  her 


THE  MEN  WHO  CHANGED  SHIPS      33 

side — it  miclit  liae  been  the  lip  o'  a  mouldie-tube, 
Ah'm  thinkin' — gae  ma  puir  back  a  sair  dig,  and 
there  Ah  was  amang  the  mess  left  o'  the  gun  and 
its  crew.  Ah  was  near  to  bein'  dragged  owerboard 
after  that  T.B.D.,  and  when  she  was  gone  Ah  fund 
maseF— for  the  second  time  in  ane  night — hangin' 
ower  the  raggit  edge  o'  a  black  hole  listenin'  to  the 
swish  o'  ragin'  waters. 

"  And  then,  gin  that  and  ma  half-broken  back 
werna  enough  for  ony  mon,  Ah  hear  some  ane 
shoutit  that  they  thocht  that  last  ramniin'  had  done 
in  the  auld  Seagull,  and  that  the  time  wad  soon 
come  to  'bandon  ship. 

" "'  Seagull! '  says  Ah ;  '  dinna  ye  ken  this  ship  is 
the  Bow?  '  Ah  kind  o'  went  groggy  after  that,  and 
Ah  have  a  sort  o'  dim  remembrance  that  some  ane 
flashit  an  'lectric  torch  in  ma  face  and  said  that  Ah 
must  have  been  pitchit  ower  whan  the  Bow  rammed 
the  Seagull,  and  that  Ah  prob'ly  hadna  shaken  doon 
to  ma  new  surroundings.  Ah  tried  hard  to  speir 
what  kind  o'  a  shakin'  doon  they  meant  gin  this 
hadna  been  ane.  But  Ah  didna  seem  to  have  the 
power  to  niak'  ma  words  come  straicht,  and  they 
said,  '  He's  gane  a  bit  off  his  chuck,'  and  ca'd  some 
ane  to  carry  me  below. 

"  The  pains  runnin'  up  and  doon  ma  spine  when 
Ah  was  lowered  doon  the  ladder  were  ower  much 
for  me,  and  Ah  passed  off  for  a  bit.  Whan  Ah  cam 
roun'  Ah  was  bein'  shoved  along  the  ward-room 
table — whaur  Ah  had  been  lyin' — to  rnak'  room  for 


34 


SEA-HOUNDS 


a  lad  wi'  bandages  roun'  his  head  and  a'  drippin' 
wi'  salt  water.  His  ship  had  gone  doon  twa  hours 
syne,  and  maist  o'  the  time  he  had  been  in  the 
water  or  roostin'  on  a  Carley  Float  That  lad's 
name  was  Gains,  noo  the  gun-layer  o'  the  fo'most 
gun  o'  the  Spark — him  Ah  saw  ye  talkin'  wi'  just 
noo.  He  was  strong  and  cheery  himseF,  but  fower 
o1  his  mates  were  chilled  to  the  bane,  and  Ah  wacht 
'em  shiver  to  death  richt  afore  ma  een. 

"  It  was  aboot  daylicht  when  we  pickit  up  a' 
that  was  left  o'  the  crew  o'  the  Killarney,  and  aboot 
an  hour  efter  we  fell  in  wi'  the  Sportsman,  wha 
passed  us  a  hawser  and  tried  to  tow,  stern-first, 
what  was  left  o'  the  Seagull.  Ah  didna  see  what 
was  wrang,  but  they  tellt  me  that  the  wreck  o' 
the  stern  and  the  helm  bein'  jammed  hard 
a-sta'bo'd  made  sae  much  drag  that  the  cable  partit. 
Then  there  was  naithing  else  to  do — sin'  the  Seagull 
cudna  steam — but  to  sink  her  wi'  gun-fire.  The 
captain  askit  permission  for  this  by  W.T.,  and 
when  it  came  they  ditched  the  books  and  signals, 
transferred  abody  to  the  Sportsman,  and  then  gae 
her  a  roun'  or  twa  at  the  water-line  wi'  the  Sports- 
man's guns.  Doon  she  gaed,  and  that,"  he  con- 
cluded with  a  grin,  "  is  the  true  yarn  o'  the  sinkin' 
o'  the  Seagull.  If  only  o'  ma  mates  try  to  mak'  ye 
b'lieve  that  she  foundert  'count  o'  bein'  hit  and 
holed  by  a  '  human  proj '  kent  as  Jock  Campbell, 
I'm  hopin'  ye'll  no  listen  to  'em.'7 


CHAPTER  II 

"  FIREBRAND  " 

IT  was  a  little  incident  which  occurred  one  night 
when  the  Grand  Fleet  was  returning  to  Base 
from  one  of  its  periodical  sweeps  through  the 
North  Sea  that  set  Able-seaman  Melton  talking 
of  the  things  he  had  seen  and  felt  and  heard  the 
time  he  was  standing  anti-submarine  watch  In  the 
Firebrand,  when  her  flotilla  of  destroyers  mixed 
itself  up  with  a  squadron  of  German  cruisers  in  the 
course  of  the  "  dog-fight "  which  concluded  the  bat- 
tle of  Jutland. 

I  had  found  him,  muffled  to  the  eyes  and  dancing 
a  jangling  jig  on  a  sleet-slippery  steel  plate  to  keep 
warm,  when  I  picked  my  precarious  way  along  the 
coco-matted  deck  and  climbed  up  to  the  after 
searchlight  platform  of  the  Flotilla  Leader  I 
chanced  to  be  in  at  the  time.  A  fairly  decent  day 
was  turning  into  a  dirty  night,  and  the  steadily 
thickening  mistiness  which  accompanied  a  sodden 
rain  in  process  of  transformation  into  soft  snow 
had  reduced  the  visibility  to  a  point  where  the 
Commander-in-Chief  deemed  it  safer  for  the  Fleet 
4"*  *""*•  back  to  open  sea  and  take  no  further  chances 


36 


SEA-HOUNDS 


among  the  treacherous  currents  and  rocky  islands 
that  beset  the  approaches  to  the  Northern  Base. 

The  Flagship,  which  had  received  the  order  by 
wireless,  flashed  "  Destroyers  prepare  to  take  sta- 
tion for  screening  when  Fleet  alters  to  easterly 
course  at  nine  o'clock,"  and  shortly  before  that 
hour  the  Flotilla  Leader  made  the  signal  to  execute. 
Almost  immediately  I  felt  the  hull  of  the  Flyer 
take  on  an  accelerated  throb  as  her  speed  was  in- 
creased, and  a  moment  later  the  wake  began  to  boil 
higher  as  the  helm  was  put  hard-a-starboard  to 
bring  her  round.  We  were  steaming  a  cable's  length 
on  the  starboard  bow  of  the  Olympus,  the  leading 
ship  of  the  squadron  at  the  time,  and  the  carrying 
out  of  the  manoeuvre  involved  the  Flyer's  leading 
her  division  across  the  head  of  the  battleship  line 
and  down  the  other  side  on  an  opposite  course,  so 
that  the  destroyers  would  be  in  a  position  to  resume 
night-screening  formation  when  the  fleet  had  fin- 
ished turning. 

Just  how  the  captain  of  the  Flyer  happened  to 
cut  his  course  so  fine  I  never  learned,  but  the 
patchiness  of  the  drifting  mist  must  have  had  a 
good  deal  to  do  with  making  him  misjudge  his  dis- 
tance. At  any  rate,  just  as  we  had  turned  through 
nine  or  ten  points,  I  suddenly  saw  the  ominously 
bulking  bows  of  the  Olympus  come  juggernauting 
out  of  the  night,  with  the  amorphous  loom  of  the 
bridge  and  foretop  towering  monstrously  above. 
The  Flyer  seemed  fairly  to  jump  out  of  the  water 


FIREBRAND " 


37 


at  the  kick  her  propellers  gave  her  as  the  turbines 
responded  to  the  bridge's  call  for  "  More  steam," 
and  a  spinning  puff  of  smoke  darkened  the  glow 
above  the  funnels  for  a  moment  as  fresh  oil  was 
sprayed  upon  the  fires  beneath  the  boilers. 

It  was  a  good  deal  like  a  cat  scurrying  in  front 
of  a  speeding  motor-car,  and  the  consequences 
would  have  been  more  or  less  similar  had  not  one  of 
the  Olympus' s  swarming  lookouts,  peering  into  the 
darkness  from  his  screened  nest,  gathered  hint  of 
the  disaster  that  menaced  in  time  to  warn  the  fore- 
bridge.  The  great  super-dreadnought  responded 
to  her  helm  very  smartly  considering  her  tonnage, 
and  she  turned  just  far  enough  to  starboard  to 
avoid  grinding  us  under.  I  could  almost  look  up 
through  the  port  hawse-pipe  as  the  flare  of  her 
bow  loomed  above  my  head,  and  the  man  standing 
by  the  depth-charges  on  the  all-but-grazed  stern  of 
the  Flyer  might  well  have  been  pardoned  even  if 
the  story  his  mates  afterwards  told  of  his  action 
on  this  occasion  were  true — that  he  had  tried  to 
lend  off  one  of  the  largest  battleships  afloat  with 
a  boat-hook. 

A  silhouette  against  the  barely  perceptible  glow 
at  the  back  of  the  forebridge  of  a  "  brass-hatted  " 
officer  shaking  his  fist  as  though  in  the  act  of  ramp- 
ing and  roaring  like  a  true  British  sailor  moved  by 
righteous  anger;  a  forty  or  fifty  degree  heel  to 
starboard  as  the  curling  bow- wave  of  the  Olympus 
thwacked  resoundingly  along  her  port  side,  and 


38 


SEA-HOUNDS 


the  Flyer  drove  on  into  the  sleet-shot  darkness  to 
blow  off  accumulated  steam  in  rolling  clouds,  allow 
her  fluttering  pulse  to  become  normal,  and  resume 
the  even  tenor  of  her  way. 

Melton,  A.B.,  whistling  over  and  over  the  open- 
ing bars  of  the  chorus  of  "  Do  You  Want  Us  to 
Lose  the  War?  "  started  his  metallically  clanking 
jig  again,  but  presently,  like  a  man  with  something 
on  his  mind,  sidled  over  and  shoved  his  Balaklava- 
bordered  face  against  the  outside  of  the  closely- 
reefed  hood  of  my  "  lammy  "  coat,  and  muttered 
thickly  something  about  being  afraid  he  had  got 
himself  into  trouble.  When  I  had  pulled  loose  a 
snap  and  improved  communications  by  unmuffling 
a  lee  ear,  I  learned  that  it  had  just  occurred  to  the 
good  chap  that  he  failed  to  report  to  the  bridge 
the  battleship  he  had  sighted  "  fifty  yards  to  the 
port  beam,"  and  he  was  wondering  whether  there 
would  be  a  "  strafe "  coming  from  the  skipper 
about  it. 

"  Fact  is,  sir,"  he  said,  speaking  brokenly  as  the 
galloping  gusts  every  now  and  then  forced  a  word 
back  into  his  mouth,  "  that  that  rip-rarin'  stem, 
with  the  white  foam  flyin'  off  both  sides  of  it,  bear- 
ing down  right  for  where  I  was  standin* — all  that 
was  so  like  what  I  saw  the  night  of  Jutland  in  the 
Firebrand  that — that  the  turn  it  give  me  took  my 
mind  right  back  and — and  I  wasn't  thinkin'  o' 
anything  else  till  the  'Lympus  was  gone  by." 

I  assured  him  that,  since  the  Olympus  had  doubt- 


«  FIREBRAND  » 


39 


less  been  sighted  from  the  bridge  several  winks 
before  she  had  been  visible  from  his  less-favourable 
vantage,  they  would  probably  have  been  too  busy 
to  respond  to  his  call  at  the  voice-pipe  even  had  he 
tried  to  report  what  he  saw. 

"  If  I  were  you,"  I  said,  "  I  would  forget  all 
about  that,  and  try  to  explain  how  a  cruiser  that 
the  Firebrand  was  about  to  ram  bow-to-bow"  (I 
had,  of  course,  already  heard  something  of  that 
dare-devilish  exploit)  "could  have  looked  to  you 
like  the  Olympus  ramping  down  on  a  right-angling 
course  and  threatening  to  slice  off  the  Flyer's  stern 
with  all  her  depth-charges.  I  quite  understood  that 
one  ramming  is  a  good  deal  like  another,  as  far  as 
a  big  ship  hitting  a  destroyer  fair  and  square  is 
concerned,  but " 

"  'Twasn't  that  first  cruder  'tall,  sir,"  Melton  in- 
terrupted, nuzzling  into  my  "  lammy  "  hood  again 
to  make  himself  heard.  "  Twas  Another  'un,  sir — a 
wallopin'  big  un.  The  seas  was  stiff  wi'  cru'sers  fer 
a  minit,  sir,  an'  no  sooner  was  we  clear  o'  the  first 
un  than  the  second  come  tearin'  down  on  us,  tryin' 
to  cut  us  in  two  amidships.  An'  that  last  un  was  a 
battP  cru'ser  nigh  as  big  as  the  'Lympus,  all  shot 
up  in  the  funnels  and  runnin'  wild  an'  bloody- 
minded  like  a  mad  bull.  We  were  pretty  nigh  to 
bein'  stopped  dead,  an'  if  she  hadn't  been  slower'n 
cold  grease  wP  her  helm  she'd  ha'  eat  us  right  up." 

There  had  been  nothing  of  malice  aforethought 
in  my  action  in  cornering  Melton  on  the  search- 


40 


SEA-HOUNDS 


light  platform  that  night,  for,  as  it  chanced,  I  had 
failed  to  learn  up  to  that  moment  that  he  had  been 
in  the  famous  Firebrand  at  Jutland.  Nor,  with  the 
wind  and  sea  getting  up  as  fast  as  the  glass  and 
the  thermometer  were  going  down,  was  the  time  or 
the  place  quite  what  a  man  would  have  chosen  for 
anything  in  the  way  of  cosy  fireside  reminiscence. 
But,  both  these  facts  notwithstanding,  I  felt  that, 
since  I  was  leaving  the  Flyer  to  go  to  another  base 
directly  she  arrived  in  harbour  on  the  morrow,  it 
would  be  criminal  to  neglect  the  opportunity  of 
hearing  what  was  perhaps  the  most  sportingly 
spectacular  of  all  the  Jutland  destroyer  actions 
related  by  one  who  was  actually  in  it.  I  did  not 
dare  to  distract  Melton's  attention  from  his  look- 
out by  drawing  him  into  talking  while  he  was  still 
on  watch,  but,  when  he  was  relieved  at  ten  o'clock, 
I  waylaid  him  at  the  foot  of  the  ladder  with  a  pot 
of  steaming  hot  ship's  cocoa  (foraged  from  the 
galley  by  a  sympathetic  ward-room  steward)  and 
both  pockets  of  my  "  lamrny  "  coat  filled  with  the 
remnants  of  a  box  of  assorted  Yankee  "candy" 
looted  from  the  American  submarine  in  which  I 
had  been  on  patrol  the  week  before. 

Melton  rose  to  the  lure  instantly — or  perhaps 
I  should  say  "  fell  to  the  bribe  " — for  the  British 
bluejacket,  if  only  he  were  given  a  chance  to  de- 
velop, is  quite  as  sweet  of  tooth  as  his  brother 
Yank.  Because  I  could  hardly  take  him  to  the 
captain's  cabin,  which  I  wras  occupying  for  the 


"FIREBRAND" 


41 


moment,  for  a  yarn,  and  because  he,  likewise, 
could  not  take  me  down  to  the  mess  deck  to  disturb 
the  off-watch  sleepers  with  our  chatter,  there  was 
nothing  to  do  but  carry  on  as  best  we  could  in  the 
friendly  lee  of  one  of  the  funnels. 

It  was  a  night  of  infernal  inkiness  by  now,  and 
only  clinging  patches  of  soft  snow  and  their 
blanker  blankness  revealed  the  dimly  guessable 
lines  of  whaler  and  cowls  and  torpedo  tubes  and  the 
loom  of  the  loftier  bridge.  The  battleship  line  was 
masked  completely  by  the  double  curtain  of  the 
darkness  and  the  snow,  and  only  a  tremulous  grey- 
ness,  barely  discernible  in  the  intervals  of  the 
flurries  of  flakes  where  the  starboard  bow-wave 
curled  back  from  the  Olympus,  gave  an  intermit- 
tent bearing  to  help  in  keeping  station.  Underfoot 
was  the  blackness  of  the  pit,  not  the  faintest  gleam 
reflecting  from  the  waves  washing  over  the  weather 
side  to  swirl  half-knee  high  about  our  sea  boots. 
Even  overhead  all  that  was  visible  were  fluttering 
patches  of  snow  flakes  dancing  through  the  haloes  of 
pale  rose  radiance  that  crowned  the  tops  of  the  fun- 
nels. The  wail  of  the  wind  in  the  wireless  aerials, 
the  crash  of  the  surging  beam  seas,  the  throb  of  the 
propellers,  and  the  pussy-cat  purr  of  the  spinning 
turbines — these  were  the  fit  accompaniment  to 
which  Melton  A.B.  recited  to  me  the  epic  of  the 
Firebrand  at  Jutland. 

The  cocoa  I  quaffed  mug  for  mug  with  Melton, 
down  to  the  last  of  the  sweet,  sustaining  "  set- 


42 


SEA-HOUNDS 


tlings"  in  the  bottom  of  the  pot;  but  the  candy  I 
kept  in  reserve  to  draw  on  from  time  to  time  as  it 
was  needed  to  lubricate  his  tongue  and  stoke  the 
smouldering  fires  of  his  memory.  I  started  him  off 
with  a  red-and- white  "  barber's  pole  "  stick,  which 
took  not  a  little  fumbling  with  mittened  hands  to 
extract  from  its  greased  tissue  paper  wrapper,  and 
the  seductive  fragrance  of  crunched  peppermint 
mingled  with  the  acrid  fumes  of  burning  petroleum 

as  he  leaned  close  and  began  to  tell  how  the th 

Flotilla,  to  which  the  Firebrand  belonged,  screen- 
ing the th  B.S.  of  the  Battle  Fleet,  came  upon 

the  scene  toward  the  end  of  the  long  summer  after- 
noon. He  had  witnessed  Beatty's  consummate 
manoeuvre  of  "  crossing  the  T  "  of  the  enemy  line 
with  the  four  that  remained  of  his  battered  First 
Battle  Cruiser  Squadron,  and  he  had  seen  the  main 
Battle  Fleet  baulked  of  its  action  the  lowering 
mists  and  the  closing  in  of  darkness ;  but  it  was  not 
until  full  night  had  clapped  down  its  lid  that  the 
fun  for  the  Firebrand  really  began. 

"  It  was  just  'twixt  daylight  an'  dark,"  he  said, 
reaching  me  a  steadying  hand  in  the  darkness  as 
the  Flyer  teetered  giddily  down  the  back  of  a  re- 
ceding sea,  "  that  the  flotilla  dropped  back  to  take 
stashun  'stern  the  battl'ships  we  was  screenin'.  The 
Killarney  was  leadin'  an'  after  her  came  the  Fire- 
bran',  Seagull,  Wreath,  an'  Consort,  makin'  up  the 
First  Divishun.  Wreath  an'  Consort  sighted  some 
Hun  U-boats  and  'stroyers  while  this  move  was  on, 


«  FIREBRAND  " 


43 


an'  plunked  off  a  few  shots  at  'em.  Don't  think  wi' 
any  fatal  consequence.  Then  there  come  the  rattle 
of  light  gun  fire  from  the  southward,  like  from 
cru'sers  or  battleships  repellin'  T.B.D.'s.  Then  it 
was  all  serene  for  mor'n  an  'our,  an'  then  all  hell 
opens  up." 

I  suspected,  from  the  sounds  he  made,  that  Mel- 
ton had  bitten  into  a  block  of  milk  chocolate 
without  removing  its  wrapping  of  foil  and  paper, 
but  presently  his  enunciation  grew  less  explosive 
and  more  intelligible. 

"  It  was  Hun  cru'sers  drivin'  down  on  us  from 
the  starboard  quarter  that  started  the  monkey- 
show,"  he  said,  "an'  that  bein'  the  nor'west  it  was 
hardly  where  we'd  reason  to  expect  'em  from.  It 
looks  like  we  had  'em  clean  cut  off,  wi'  the  'hole 
BattF  Fleet  steamin'  'tween  'em  an'  their  way  back 
home,  an'  that  they  was  tryin'  to  sneak  through  in 
the  darkness.  The  Wreath,  at  the  end  o'  the  line 
nearest  'em,  spotted  'em  first,  and  she,  'cause  she 
didn't  want  to  give  herself  'way  wi'  flashin',  re- 
ported what  she'd  seen  by  low-power  W.T.  to  the 
rest  o'  the  flotilla.  Course  I — standin'  watch  aft 
—didn't  know  nothin'  'bout  that  signal,  so  that  the 
first  I  hears  o'  the  Huns  was  when  they  all  opened 
up  on  the  poor  ol'  Killarney,  'cause  she  was  the 
leader.  I  s'pose,  and  she  started  firin'  back  at 
their  flashes. 

"  The  leadin'  Hun  flashed  his  searchlight  on  the 
Killarney  as  he  opened  up,  but  shut  off  sharp  when 


44 


SEA-HOUNDS 


Killarney  came  back  at  him.  I  could  see  some  o' 
tlie  projes  flittin'  right  down  the  light  beam  until 
it  blinked  off,  an'  it  was  a  flock  of  two  or  three  of 
these  that  I  kept  my  eye  on  all  the  way  till  they 
bashed  into  the  Killarney' s  bridge  and  busted. 
She  was  zigzaggin'  a  coupP  o'  points  on  Firebrand's 
starboard  bow  just  then,  so  my  standin'  aft  didn't 
prevent  my  gettin'  a  good  look  at  what  was  hap- 
penin'.  I  could  see  the  bodies  o'  four  or  five  men 
flyin'  up  wi'  the  wreckage  o'  the  explosion,  an'  then, 
all  in  a  niinnit,  she  was  rollin'  in  flames  from  the 
funnels  right  for'ard.  By  the  light  o'  it  I  could  see 
the  crews  o'  the  'midships  and  after  guns  workin' 
'em  like  devils,  an'  twice  anyhow,  an'  I  think  three 
times,  I  saw  a  bright,  shiny  slug  slip  over  the  side, 
an'  knew  they  were  loosin'  mouldies  to  try  to  get 
their  own  back  from  the  Hun. 

"  The  sea  was  boilin'  up  red  as  blood  where  the 
light  from  the  burnin'  Killarney  fell  on  the  spouts 
the  Huns'  projes  was  throwin'  up  all  round  her. 
She  was  the  fairest  mark  ever  a  gun  trained  on, 
and  p'raps  that  was  what  tempted  the  Hun  to  keep 
pumpin'  projes  at  her  instead  o'  givin'  more  at- 
tenshun  to  the  rest  of  the  divishun  trailin'  astern. 
That  was  wfhat  gave  Firebran'  her  first  chance  o' 
alterin'  the  Hun  navy  list  that  night. 

"  The  second  cru'ser  in  the  Hun  line  was  bearin' 
right  abeam  to  starboard  by  now,  an'  I  could  see  by 
her  gun-flashes  she  was  of  good  size,  wi'  four  long 
funnels  fillin'  up  all  the  deck  'tween  her  two  masts. 


"  FIREBRAND  "  45 

She  was  firing  fast  in  salvoes  wi'  all  the  guns  that 
would  bear  on  the  burnin'  Killarney.  I  could  just 
make  out  by  the  light  from  the  Killarney,  which 
was  growin'  stronger  every  minnit,  that  the  crew  of 
our  after  torpedo  tube  was  gettin'  busy,  an'  while  I 
was  watch  in'  'em,  over  flops  the  mouldie  and  starts 
to  run.  I  knew  it  was  aimed  for  one  or  t'other  o' 
the  two  leadin'  Huns,  but  wasn't  dead  sure  which 
till  I  saw  the  after  funnels  an'  mainmast  o'  the 
second  toppl'  over  an'  a  big  flash  o'  fire  take  their 
place.  Then  it  looked  like  there  was  exploshuns 
right  off  fore  an'  aft,  and  then  fires  broke  out  all 
over  her  from  stem  to  stern.  Next  thing  I  knows, 
she  takes  a  big  list  to  starboard,  an'  over  she  goes, 
wT  more  exploshuns  throwin'  up  spouts  o'  steam,  as 
she  rolls  under.  The  second  mouldie — it  got  away 
right  after  the  first — was  never  needed  to  finish 
the  job.  The  Fircbran'  had  evened  up  the  score  for 
the  Killarney,  wi'  a  good  margin  over. 

"  The  captain  turned  away  to  reload  mouldies 
after  that,  an'  just  as  we  swung  out  o'  line  I  saw  a 
salvo  straddle  the  Killarney ',  and  two  or  three 
shells  hit  square  'tween  her  funnels  an'  after 
sup'rstructV.  They  must  have  gone  off  in  her  en- 
gine room,  for  there  was  more  steam  than  fire  risin' 
from  her  as  we  turned  an'  left  her  astern,  an'  she 
looked  stopped  dead.  A  Hun  cru'ser  was  closin' 
the  blazin'  wreck  o'  her,  firin'  hard ;  but,  by  Gawd, 
what  d'you  think  I  saw.  The  only  patch  on  the 
oP  Killarney  that  was  free  o'  the  ragin'  fires  was 


SEA-HOUNDS 

her  stern,  an'  from  there  the  steady  flashes  of  her 
after  gun  showed  it  was  bein'  worked  as  fast  an' 
reg'lar  as  ever  I  seen  it  done  at  any  night-firm' 
practice.  I  looked  to  see  her  blow  up  every  minnit, 
but  she  was  still  spittin'  wF  that  littF  after  gun 
when  the  sudden  flashin'  up  of  the  fightin'  lights 
for'ard  turned  my  attenshun  nearer  home. 

"  I  could  just  make  out  a  line  of  what  looked  like 
'stroyers  headin'  cross  our  bows,  an'  thought  we'd 
stumbled  into  'nother  nest  o'  Huns  till  they  an- 
swered back  wF  the  signal  o'  the  day,  an'  I  knew 
it  was  one  of  our  own  flotillas  we'd  been  catchin' 
up  to.  That  flashin'  up  o'  lights  come  near  to  doin' 
for  us  tho',  for  it  showed  us  up  to  a  big  Hun 
steamin'  three  or  four  miles  off  on  the  port  beam, 
an'  he  claps  a  searchlight  on  us  an'  chases  it  up  wF 
a  sheaf  o'  shells.  The  only  proj  that  hit  us  bounced 
off  wFout  doin'  much  hurt  to  the  ship,  but  some 
flyin'  hunks  o'  it  smashed  the  mouldie  davit  and 
knocked  out  most  o'  the  crews  o'  the  after  tubes, 
iucludin'  the  *T.G.M.  That  put  a  stop  to  reloadin1 
operashuns  wF  a  mouldie  in  only  one  o'  the  tubes. 
By  good  luck  we  managed  to  zigzag  out  o'  the 
searchlight  beam  right  after  that,  an'  was  free  to 
turn  back  an'  try  to  start  a  divershun  for  the  poor 
ol'  Killamey. 

"  Her  fires  looked  to  be  dyin'  down  when  we  first 
picked  her  up,  but  right  after  that  some  more  projes 
bust  on  her  an'  she  started  blazin'  harder  than 

*  Torpedo  Gunner's  Mate. 


s 


"FIREBRAND"  47 

ever.  I  watched  for  the  spittin'  o'  that  littP  after 
gun,  but  when  it  come  it  looked  to  spurt  right  out 
o'  the  heart  o'  a  blazin'  furnace,  showin'  the  fire  was 
now  burnin'  from  stem  to  stern.  One  more  salvo 
plastered  over  her,  an'  that  one  got  no  reply.  The 
good  ol'  '  Killy'  had  shot  her  bolt,  an'  her  finish 
looked  a  matter  o'  minnits. 

"  It  was  plain  enough  if  anyone  was  still  livin' 
they  was  goin'  to  need  pickin'  up  in  a  hurry,  an' 
the  captain  put  the  Firebrari  at  full  speed  to  close 
her  an'  stan'  by  to  give  a  han'.  Just  then  I  saw  a 
Hun  searchlight  turned  on  and  start  feelin'  its 
way  up  to  where  the  Killarney  was  burning,  wi' 
a  cru'ser  followin'  up  the  small  end  o'  the  beam, 
seemin'  to  be  nosin'  in  to  end  the  mis'ry.  She  did 
not  bear  right  for  a  mouldie,  but  we  opened  up  wi' 
the  foremost  gun,  an'  I  saw  the  shells  bustin'  on 
her  bridge  and  fo'c'sl'  like  rotten  apples  chucked 
'against  a  wall.  The  light  blinked  off  as  the  first 
proj  hit  home,  but  there  was  no  way  to  tell  if  it 
was  shot  away  or  no.  It  was  the  second  time  that 
night  that  we'd  done  our  bit  to  ease  off  the  hell 
turned  loose  on  the  Killarney.  Likewise  it  was  the 
last.  From  then  on  we  had  our  own  partic'lar  hell 
to  wriggle  out  of,  wi'  no  time  left  to  play  '  Venging 
Nemisus '  to  our  stricken  sisters.  Just  a  big  bon- 
fire sittin'  on  the  sea  an'  lickin'  a  hole  in  the  night 
wi'  its  flames — that  was  the  last  I  saw  of  the  ol' 
Killarney." 

Melton  paused  for  a  moment  as  if  engrossed  in 


48  SEA-HOUNDS 

the  memories  conjured  up  by  his  narrative,  and  I 
took  advantage  of  the  interval  to  hand  him  one  of 
those  most  loved  lollipops  of  Yankee  youngster- 
hood,  a  plump,  hard  ball  of  toothsome  saccharinity 
called — obviously  from  its  resistant  resiliency — an 
"  All-Day  Sucker/'  When  he  spoke  again  I  knew 
in  an  instant  that  a  sure  instinct  had  led  him  to 
make  the  proper  disposition  of  the  succulent  dainty 
— that  it  was  stowed  snugly  away  in  a  bulging 
cheek  like  a  squirrePs  nut,  to  melt  away  in  its  own 
good  time. 

"  'Tween  the  glare  of  the  burnin-  Killarney,"  Mel- 
ton went  on  after  thrashing  his  hands  across  his 
shoulders  for  a  minute  to  warm  them  up,  "  the 
gleam  o'  the  Hun  cruiser's  searchlight  an'  the  flash 
o'  our  own  gun-fire,  we  must  all  have  been  more  or 
less  blinded  in  the  Firebrand,  for  we  had  run  close 
to  what  may  have  been  a  part  of  the  main  en'my 
battr  line  wi'out  nothin'  bein'  reported.  Our  firin' 
had  give  us  away,  o'  course,  an'  the  nearest  ships 
must  have  had  their  guns  trained  on  us,  waitin'  to 
be  sure  what  we  was.  One  o'  'em  must  have  made 
up  his  mind  we  was  en'my  even  before  we  spotted 
'em  at  all,  for  the  first  thing  I  saw  was  the  white 
o'  the  bow  wave  an'  wake  as  she  turned  toward  us, 
prob'ly  to  ram.  She'd  have  caught  us  just  about 
midships  if  the  bridge  hadn't  sighted  her  an'  done 
the  only  thing  open  to  do — turned  to  meet  her 
head  on. 

"  I  don't  remember  that  either  she  or  us  switched 


"  FIREBRAND  » 


49 


on  recognition  lights,  but  the  Hun  opened  with 
ev'rything  that  would  bear  just  before  we  slammed 
together.  It  must  have  been  by  the  gun-flashes 
that  I  saw  she  had  three  funnels,  wi'  what 
looked  like  some  kind  o1  marks  painted  on  'em  in 
red.  I  saw  our  second  funnel  give  a  jump  and 
crumple  up  as  a  proj  hit  it,  an'  then  a  spurt  o' 
flame — from  a  big  gun  fired  almost  point-blank- 
looked  to  shoot  right  on  to  the  bridge.  I  thought 
that  it  must  have  killed  ev'ry  man  there  an'  carried 
away  all  the  steering  gear.  But  no. 

"The  old  Firebrand  wi'  helm  hard-a-port,  went 
swingin'  right  on  thro'  the  point  or  two  more  that 
saved  her  life.  I  could  feel  by  the  way  she  jumped 
an'  gathered  herself  that  last  second  that  the  oP 
girl  was  still  under  control.  Then  we  struck  wi' 
a  horrible  grind  an'  crash,  an'  I  went  sprawlin' 
flat. 

"  If  the  Hun  had  hit  us  half  a  wink  sooner,  or  if 
we  had  turned  half  a  point  less,  we'd  have  been 
swallowed  alive  and  split  up  in  small  hunks.  As 
it  was,  we  didn't  have  a  lot  the  worst  o'  it,  an' 
p'raps  we  more  than  broke  even.  It  was  like  a 
mastiff  an'  terrier  runnin'  into  each  other  in  the 
dark,  an'  the  terrier  only  gettin'  run  over  an'  the 
mastiff  gettin'  a  piece  bit  clean  out  o'  his  neck.  It 
was  our  port  bows  that  come  together,  an'  for  only 
a  sort  o'  glancin'  blow.  But  it  was  the  stem  o'  the 
Firebran'  that  was  turned  in  sharpest,  an'  it  was 


50  SEA-HOUNDS 

her  that  was  hittin'  up — by  a  good  ten  knots — the 
most  speed.  She  was  left  in  a  terribl'  mess,  but 
most  o'  the  damage  was  from  her  rammin'  the  Hun, 
not  from  the  Hun  rammin'  her.  While  as  for  what 
she  did  to  the  Hun,  the  best  proof  o'  it  was  the 
more'n  twenty  feet  of  her  side-platin' — an  upper 
strake,  wi'  scuttP  holes  in  it  an'  pieces  o'  gutterway 
deck  hangin'  to  it — that  we  found  in  the  wreck  of 
our  foVsP.  If  the  hole  that  hunk  of  steel  left  be- 
hind it  didn't  put  that  Hun  out  o'  business  as  a 
fightin*  unit  till  she  got  back  to  port  an'  had  a 
refit,  I'll  eat  it." 

I  wasn't  quite  clear  in  my  mind  whether  Melton 
meant  to  imply  that  he  would  eat  the  hole  in  the 
Hun  cruiser  or  the  hunk  of  steel  that  came  out  of  it, 
but  there  was  no  room  for  doubt  that  the  violent 
crunch  with  which  he  emphasised  the  assertion  had 
put  a  period  to  the  life  of  his  "  All-Day  Sucker," 
which  was  never  intended  to  be  treated  like  chewing 
toffy.  Dipping  into  the  grab-bag  of  my  "  lammy  " 
coat  pocket  for  something  with  which  to  replace  it, 
therefore,  I  brought  up  a  stick  of  chewing  gum,  and 
he  resumed  his  story  in  an  atmosphere  sweet,  with 
the  ineffable  odour  of  spearmint  and  escaping 
steam. 

"  How  much  the  Hun  was  shook  up  by  that 
smash,"  Melton  continued,  "  you  can  reckon  from 
this:  We  was  almost  dead  stopped  for  some 
minnits,  an'  all  out  o'  control  from  the  time  of 
rammin'  till  they  started  connin'  her  from  the  en- 


I 


"  FIREBRAND  " 


51 


gine-rooin.  There  was  one  fire  flickerin'  in  the 
wreckage  o'  the  forebridge,  an'  another  somewhere 
'midships,  while  there  was  also  a  big  glare  throwin' 
up  where  the  foremost  funnel  was  shot  away.  We 
was  as  soft  an'  easy  a  target  as  even  a  Hun  could 
ask  for ;  an'  yet  that  one  was  in  too  much  of  a  funk 
wi'  his  own  hurts  to  let  off  a  singl'  other  gun  at  us 
in  all  the  time  that  he  must  have  been  flounderin' 
on  at  not  much  more'n  point-blank  range.  Mebbe 
he  was  knocked  up  even  more'n  we  thought. 
Nothin'  else  would  account  for  him  not  havin' 
Another  go  at  us. 

"  Just  one  wild  bally  mess — that  was  what  the 
Firebran'  looked  like  when  I  got  to  my  feet  again 
an'  cast  an  eye  for'ard.  There  was  too  much 
smoke  an'  steam  to  see  clear,  an'  it  was  mostly 
flickers  o'  red  light  where  the  fires  were  startin', 
an'  big,  black  shadows  full  o'  wreckage.  As  it 
looked  to  me  from  aft — tho',  o'  course,  the  full 
effects  wasn't  vis'bl'  till  daylight,  the  bridge  an' 
searchlight  platform  an'  mast  was  shoved  right 
back  an'  piled  up  on  the  foremost  funnel.  The 
whaler  an'  dingy  was  carried  away,  an'  my  first 
thought,  for  I  was  sure  she  was  sinkin',  was  that 
we  had  no  boats  to  put  off  in.  I  could  see  two  or 
three  wounded  crawlin'  out  o'  the  raffle,  but  I  knew 
that  the  most  to  be  dished  would  be  in  the  wreck 
o'  the  bridge.  The  queerest  thing  o'  all  was  the 
flashes  o'  green  an'  blue  light  flutterin'  thro'  the 
tangled  steel  o'  the  wreckage.  At  first  I  thought 


52  SEA-HOUNDS 

I  was  sort  o'  seem'  things ;  but  fin'lly  I  figgered  it 
out  as  the  juice  from  the  busted  'lectric  wires  short- 
circuitin'.  It  meant,  I  tol'  myself,  that  the  men 
under  them  tons  o'  steel  was  bein'  'lectrocuted  on 
top  o'  bein'  crushed. 

"  It  looked  like  any  one  o'  three  or  four  things 
would  be  enough  to  finish  the  ol'  Firebrand  I  re- 
member thinkin'  that  if  she  didn't  blow  up,  she  was 
sure  to  burn  up ;  an'  that  if,  by  chance,  she 
missed  doin'  one  o'  them,  she  was  goin'  to  founder 
anyhow.  She  was  already  well  down  by  the  head, 
an' — leastways,  it  looked  so  to  me  at  the  time — still 
settlin'  fast.  An'  I  was  just  reflectin'  that,  even  if 
she  was  lucky  enough  not  to  burn  up,  or  blow  up, 
or  founder,  she  was  still  too  easy  pickin'  for  the 
Huns  to  miss  doin'  her  in  one  way  or  'nother,  when, 
thunderin'  out  o'  the  darkness  an'  headin'  up  to 
crumpl'  underfoot  what  was  left  o'  the  stopped  an' 
helpless  Firebran',  come  a  hulkin'  big  battl'  cru'ser, 
the  one  I  was  just  tellin'  you  the  'Lympus  set  me 
thinkin'  on  a  while  back. 

"  Starin'  at  our  own  fires  must  have  blinded  me  a 
good  bit,  or  I'd  have  seen  him  sooner'n  I  did.  He 
looked  like  he  been  gettin'  no  end  o'  a  hammerin', 
for  his  second  funnel  was  gone,  an'  out  of  the  hole 
it  left  a  big  spurt  o'  flame  an'  smoke  was  rushin' 
that  would  have  showed  him  up  for  miles.  There 
was  a  red  hot  fire  ragin'  under  his  fo'c'sl',  too,  an' 
I  saw  the  flames  lashin'  round  thro'  some  jagged 
shell  holes  in  his  port  bow.  Lucky  for  us,  he  was 


"  FIREBRAND " 


53 


runnin'  for  his  life,  an'  had  no  time  to  more  than 
try  to  run  us  down  in  passin'. 

"  It  must  have  been  just  from  habit  I  yelled 
down  my  voice-pipe,  for  I  knew  they  was  no  longer 
controllin'  her  from  the  bridge;  but  the  roarin'  o' 
a  fire  an'  the  clank  of  bangin'  metal  was  the  only 
sounds  that  come  back.  When  I  looked  up  again 
the  Hun  was  right  on  top  of  us,  an1  I  must  have 
just  stood  there — froze — like  to-night  wi'  the 
'Lympus.  By  the  grace  o'  Gawd,  he  hadn't  been 
abl'  to  alter  course  enough  to  do  the  trick.  His 
stem  shot  by  wi'  twenty  feet  or  more  clearance,  an' 
it  was  only  the  fat  bulge  of  him  that  kissed  us  off 
in  passin'.  It  was  by  the  glare  o'  his  fires,  not  ours, 
which  throwed  no  light  abaft  the  superstructure 
I  was  on,  that  I  saw  some  of  the  hands  was  already 
workin'  to  rig  a  jury  steerin'  gear  aft.  Then  he  was 
gone,  an'  much  too  full  o'  his  own  troubles  to  turn 
back,  or  even  send  the  one  heavy  proj  that  would 
have  cooked  us  for  good  an'  all.  A  few  minutes 
more,  an'  the  wreck  o'  the  Firebran'  begun  gatherin' 
way  again,  an1  when  I  saw  her  come  round  to  her 
nor'westerly  course  an'  push  ahead  wi'out  settlin' 
any  deeper,  I  knew  that  the  bulkheads  were  holdin' 
an'  that — always  providin'  we  run  into  no  more 
Huns — there  was  a  fightin'  chance  o'  pullin'  thro'. 

"  There  was  about  a  hundred  jobs  that  needed 
doin'  all  at  once,  an'  'tween  the  loss  o'  dead  an' 
wounded — only  about  half  the  reg'lar  ship's  com- 
pany was  fit  for  work.  The  bulkheads  had  to  be 


54  SEA-HOUNDS 

shored,  for,  wi'  the  fo'c'sl'  crumpled  up  like  a  con- 
certina an'  the  deck  an'  side  platin'  ripped  off  from 
the  stem  right  back  to  the  capstan  engine,  she  was 
open  to  the  whole  North  Sea  from  the  galley  right 
forward.  This  made  the  first  an'  second  bulkheads 
o'  no  use,  an'  made  the  third  bulkhead  all  that  stood 
'tween  us  an'  goin'  to  the  bottom.  Then  there  was 
the  fires — 'bove  deck  an'  'tween  decks — that  had  to 
be  put  out  'fore  they  got  to  the  magazines,  an'  the 
engines  to  be  kept  goin',  an'  the  ship  to  be  navi- 
gated, an'  the  wounded  to  be  looked  to.  An'  on  top 
o'  all  this,  the  ship  had  to  be  got  into  some  kind  o' 
fightin'  trim  in  case  any  more  Huns  come  pokin 
her  way.  I  won't  be  havin'  to  tell  you  it  was  one 
bally  awful  job,  carryin'  on  like  that  in  the  dark, 
an'  wi'  half  the  ship's  company  knocked  out. 

"  When  I  saw  it  was  the  first  lieutenant  that 
seemed  to  be  directin'  things,  I  took  it  the  captain 
was  done  for,  an'  that  was  what  everyone  thought 
till,  all  o'  a  sudden,  he  come  wrigglin'  out  o'  the 
wreck  o'  the  bridge — all  messed  up  an'  covered  wi' 
blood,  but  not  much  hurt  other  ways — an'  began 
carryin'  on  just  as  if  it  was  c  Gen'ral  Quarters.' 
Some  cove  wi'  the  stump  o'  his  hand  tied  up  wi' 
First  Aid  dressin'  was  sent  up  to  relieve  me  on  the 
lookout,  an'  I  was  put  to  fightin'  fires  an'  clearin' 
up  the  wreck  'bove  decks.  As  there  ain't  much 
burn  on  a  'stroyer  if  the  cordite  ain't  started, 
were  not  long  gettin'  the  fires  in  hand,  even  wi' 
havin' — cause  the  hoses  an'  the  fire-mains  was 


in' 

I 


«  BACK  FROM  THE  JAWS  »•  71 

secondaries.  Anyhow,  the  first  thing  I  remember 
was  that  she  was  gone,  and  that  the  'Nectar  was 
leading  the  Nairobi — all  that  was  left  of  the  divi- 
sion— on  a  course  to  cross  the  bows  of  the  enemy 
battle  cruisers.  The  Hun  destroyers,  which  had  no 
chance  with  us  in  a  gun  fight,  had  now  turned  tail 
and  were  heading  back  for  the  shelter  of  their  battle 
line.  Several  of  them  appeared  on  fire,  but  I  didn't 
see  any  sinking. 

"  I  am  not  quite  sure  what  orders  were  made  to 
the  flotilla  at  this  time,  but  I  rather  think  that  after 
the  Hun  attack  had  been  stopped  the  signal  was 
hoisted  to  return  to  the  battle  cruisers.  I  think  that 
is  what  the  other  divisions  did  do,  but  for  our  divi- 
sion— or  what  remained  of  it — things  were  looking 
too  promising  just  then  to  turn  our  backs  on.  I 
was  standing  by  the  foremost  tubes  at  the  time,  and 
all  of  a  sudden  the  Hun  line  began  to  turn  away, 
and  I  saw  that  the  leading  ship  was  being  heavily 
hit  and  that  she  was  afire  in  two  or  three  places.  As 
she  turned  she  presented  us  a  fine  broadside  target 
at  about  three  thousand  yards,  and  the  order  came 
from  the  bridge  to  '  Stand  by  foremost  tubes  and 
fire  when  sights  come  on.' 

"  The  turning  of  the  Hun  battle  cruiser  line  ex- 
posed us  to  the  fire  of  a  number  of  his  light  cruisers 
which  had  been  seeking  shelter  behind  it,  and  some 
smashing  salvoes  from  these  began  to  plump  down 
all  around  us  just  as  we  got  ready  to  launch  the  tor- 
pedoes. Though  there  was  not  one  direct  hit,  we 


72  SEA-HOUNDS 

were  '  straddled '  a  dozen  times,  and  the  foam 
spouts  tossed  up  by  the  shells  exploding  on  striking 
the  water  made  a  wall  of  smoke  and  spray  that  al- 
most shut  off  a  view  of  our  target.  Shell  fragments 
were  slamming  up  against  the  funnels  and  tinkling 
on  the  decks,  and  I  believe  two  or  three  men  were 
hit  by  them,  though  not  much  hurt.  It  was  this  sud- 
den savage  shelling  that  spoiled  the  only  chance  we 
had  at  the  Hun  big  'uns.  Just  as  the  sights  were  com- 
ing on  to  the  leading  ship  a  salvo  came  down  ker- 
plump  right  abreast  of  the  foremost  tubes,  throwing 
a  solid  spout  of  green  water  all  over  them.  I  saw 
both  mouldies  start  to  slide  out,  but  only  one  struck 
the  water  and  began  to  run.  A  moment  later  I  saw 
that  the  other,  for  some  reason  we  never  found  out, 
but  probably  because  it  had  been  knocked  sideways 
by  the  rush  of  water  or  perhaps  a  fragment  of  shell, 
was  hanging  by  its  tail  to  the  lip  of  the  tube,  with 
its  war-head  full  of  gun-cotton  trailing  in  the  sea. 
It  cleared  itself  when  the  next  sea  slapped  it  against 
the  side,  and  started  diving  and  jumping  about  like 
a  wounded  porpoise,  most  likely  because  its  pro- 
pellers had  been  knocked  out.  Luckily,  our  speed 
carried  us  on  before  it  had  a  chance  to  (  boomerang ' 
back  and  blow  up  the  old  Nairobi.  We  could  not 
watch  the  first  torpedo  run  on  account  of  the  spouts 
from  the  falling  shells,  but  though  it  started  right 
to  cross  the  enemy's  line,  there  was  nothing  to  make 
us  believe  it  scored  a  hit. 

"  Before  there  was  time  to  grieve  over  losing  our 


«  BACK  FROM  THE  JAWS  "  73 

chance  at  the  battle  cruisers  the  *  T.I.'  called  me  to 
give  him  a  hand  with  the  'midships'  tubes,  as  one 
of  his  men  had  been  knocked  out.  <  There's  a  light 
cruiser  just  going  to  bear  for  a  shot/  he  yelled 
from  his  seat  between  the  tubes  as  I  ran  round  to 
the  breech;  '  jump  up  and  tell  me  what  speed  she's 
making.  I  can't  see  her  fair  from  here.'  The  trouble 
was  that  the  awful  speed  the  Nairobi  was  going  at 
settled  her  down  so  low  that,  anywhere  abaft  the 
bridge,  a  man  couldn't  see  over  the  bow  wave  from 
the  deck.  But,  standing  on  top  of  the  tubes,  I  was 
high  enough  to  get  a  good  look  at  the  Hun,  when  he 
wasn't  shut  off  by  the  spouts  from  the  fall  of  shot. 
He  was  a  small  three-funnelled  light  cruiser,  and 
every  gun  he  had  looked  to  be  training  on  us. 
Another  cruiser  astern  of  him  was  also  firing  on  thp 
Nairobi,  while  two  or  three  others  were  concentrat- 
ing on  the  Nectar.  She  was  getting  it  even  hotter 
than  we  were,  and  all  I  could  see  of  her — when  one 
of  her  zigzags  brought  her  to  one  side  or  the  other 
so  the  bridge  didn't  cut  her  off  from  my  view — was 
some  masts  and  funnels  sliding  along  in  the  middle 
of  a  dancing  patch  of  foam  fountains.  Both  Nectar 
and  Nairobi  were  replying  for  all  they  were  worth 
with  their  foremost  guns;  the  after  ones  were  too 
low  down  to  fire  at  such  close  range  with  much 
effect.  I  saw  one  of  our  shells  bursting  on  the  Huns, 
and  why  their  shooting  at  us  was  so  bad  I  have 
never  quite  understood.  The  fact  we  were  settled 
so  deep  aft  from  our  speed  was  plainly  making  a  lot 


74  SEA-HOUNDS 

of  shells  ricochet  over  what  would  otherwise  have 
been  hits,  but,  at  the  same  time,  the  bows  being  so 
much  higher  out  of  the  water  offered  all  the  more 
target  forward.  It  was  more  '  Joss  '  than  anything 
else,  I  suppose.  Besides,  the  Nectar  was  just  on 
the  edge  of  getting  hers  anyhow. 

"  I  sawr  all  these  things  out  of  the  corner  of  my 
eye  like,  for  my  mind  was  centred  on  getting  what 
the  <T.I.'  wanted  to  know  about  his  cruiser.  I 
knew  just  what  this  was  to  a  *  t,'  for  I'd  taken  many 
a  turn  of  drill  at  the  tubes.  <  Parallel  courses, 
thousand  yards  range,  speed  about  twenty-five/  I 
shouted,  jumping  down  again ;  '  and  you'll  have  to 
slip  her  right  smart  or  you'll  miss  your  chance.' 
Right  then  the  seas  flattened  down  for  a  few  sec- 
onds, and  the  *  T.I.',  giving  me  an  order  of  how  to 
train  her,  set  his  sights  and  pulled  the  cocking 
lever.  A  moment  later  he  fired,  and  the  mouldie 
slipped  out  smooth  and  easy  and  started  running 
straight  and  true  for  a  point  the  Hun  was  going  to 
arrive  at  about  a  minute  later." 

Prince  had  been  poking  away  at  a  sprayer  as  he 
talked,  with  the  fluttering  light-mote  from  the  fire 
in  the  heart  of  the  furnace  playing  on  one  of  his 
squinting  eyes  in  a  way  that,  with  the  other 
quenched  in  shadow,  gave  his  face  a  look  of  Cyclo- 
pean fierceness.  "  I  jumped  up  on  the  tubes  again  to 
follow  our  little  tin  fish  on  its  swim/'  he  resumed. 
"  There  seemed  to  be  a  bit  of  a  flap  on  the  cruiser, 
for  its  next  salvo  fell  a  long  way  short  of  us.  One 


«  BACK  FROM  THE  JAWS  » 


75 


of  the  shells — a  five-  or  six-incher — did  not  explode, 
but  bounced  off  the  water  and  came  '  skip-jacking ' 
along  straight  for  us.  It  kicked  into  the  water 
twice  before  it  reached  us,  the  second  time  right 
at  the  base  of  the  wave  that  was  rolling  up  and 
hiding  our  sunken  stern,  and  that  seemed  to  give 
it  just  enough  of  an  up-flip  to  make  it  clear  the 
Nairobi's  shivering  hull.  It  came  so  slow  that  I 
caught  the  glint  of  the  copper  band  round  its  base, 
and  so  low  that  the  after  superstructure  blotted  it 
off  from  my  sight  as  it  passed  over  the  stern.  One  of 
the  after  gun's  crew  told  me  he  could  have  reached 
up  and  patted  it  as  it  tumbled  along  over  his  head. 
He  said  it  was  going  so  slow  that  he  hardly  felt  any 
wind  at  all  from  it.  Perhaps  that  was  because  he 
had  his  own  wind  up,  though,  for  it  was  making  a 
great  buzz,  and  must  have  been  carrying  a  big 
6  tail ?  of  air  in  its  wake. 

"  I  lost  track  of  our  mouldie  when  I  ducked — no, 
I  don't  mind  admitting  that's  just  what  I  did, 
though  it  missed  me  by  a  mile — and  before  I  could 
get  my  eye  on  its  wake  again  it  had  gone  home.  I 
think  they  must  have  spotted  it  coming  on  the 
cruiser,  for  I  saw  her  begin  to  alter  course  away 
just  about  the  time  I  figured  it  was  due  to  arrive. 
If  they  were  altering  to  avoid  the  mouldie,  they 
turned  the  wrong  way,  for  it  only  brought  right 
abreast  the  funnels  what'd  'a'  been  a  hit  somewhere 
about  the  bridge.  I've  got  a  picture  in  my  mind 
of  what  happened  that  I'm  dead  certain  is  as  true 


76 


SEA-HOUNDS 


as  a  photograph,  and  the  spout  of  water  that  went 
up  must  have  been  almost  exactly  amidships.  If 
the  hit  had  been  anywhere  for'rard  it  would  never 
have  broken  her  back  the  way  it  did,  and  she  might 
have  got  away.  The  funny  part  of  it  was  that  it 
was  not  the  'midships  section  of  her,  where  the 
mouldie  hit,  that  seemed  to  be  lifted  by  the  ex- 
plosion. That  part  of  her  seemed  just  to  go  to 
pieces  and  begin  to  sink  all  at  once,  while  the  bow 
and  stern  halves  started  to  come  up  and  close  to- 
gether like  a  jack-knife.  She  must  have  gone  down 
inside  of  a  minute  or  two,  but  things  were  hap- 
pening so  fast  I  don't  think  I  was  looking  when  she 
disappeared." 

Prince,  engrossed  in  his  story,  forgot  that  the  end 
of  his  poker  had  a  sheet  of  flame  playing  upon  it, 
and  the  heat  which  crept  back  from  the  rosy-red  tip 
gave  his  palm  a  sharp  singe  as  he  clutched  the 
handle  preparatory  to  executing  one  of  his  sweep- 
ing gestures.  From  then  on  to  the  end  of  his  nar- 
rative he  paused  frequently  to  lick  with  his  tongue 
the  blistered  cuticle,  the  stoker's  sovereign  remedy 
for  a  slight  burn.  "  I  was  just  starting  to  give  the 
'  T.I.?  an  account  of  what  I  had  had  a  lot  better 
chance  to  see  than  he  had,"  he  went  on  thickly, 
still  touching  the  blisters  gingerly  with  an  extended 
tongue-tip,  "  when  I  heard  him  growl,  '  Stand  by ! 
here's  another  one.  What  speed  d'you  think  she's 
making? '  I  was  still  standing  up  on  top  of  the 
tubes,  and — to  get  a  better  view — right  in  front  of 


"  BACK  FROM  THE  JAWS  "  77 

the  i  T.I.',  with  my  waist  on  just  about  the  level  of 
his  face.  As  I  turned  my  head  to  look  at  the  sec- 
ond Hun  he  straddled  us  fair  with  a  full  salvo. 
Most  of  it  went  over,  but  one  proj  struck  right 
alongside  and  just  about  flooded  us  out.  But  there 
was  something  heavier  than  water  that  it  sent 
aboard.  I  felt  a  sharp  sting  across  my  stomach, 
as  if  someone  had  given  me  a  cut  with  a  whip.  As 
I  put  my  hand  down  to  it  the  whole  front  of  my 
overall  dropped  away  where  a  fragment  of  shell 
casing  had  shot  across  it.  A  few  threads — I  found 
out  later — had  been  started  on  my  singlet,  but  my 
hide  was  not  even  scratched.  I  heard  the  *  T.I/  give 
a  yell,  and  when  I  looked  round  saw  his  face 
covered  with  blood,  and  a  flap  of  skin  from  his  fore- 
head hanging  down  over  one  eye  like  a  skye  terrier's 
ear.  The  piece  of  proj  had  caught  him  a  nasty 
side-swipe,  though  without  hurting  anything  but 
his  looks  in  the  least.  And  it  wasn't  that  he  was 
yelling  about,  either,  but  at  me  for  not  giving  him 
the  course  and  speed  of  the  second  cruiser.  He  had 
the  flap  of  skin  tied  up  out  of  his  eye — using  a  strip 
of  my  overall  because  neither  of  us  could  find  a 
handkerchief — by  the  time  I  was  back  at  the  handle. 
I  saw  the  blood  dribbling  over  his  sights,  but  he 
seemed  to  be  seeing  through  them  all  right,  for  he 
was  telling  me  how  to  train  when  I  felt  the  helm 
begin  to  grind  as  it  was  thrown  hard  over  to  make 
a  sudden  alteration  of  course.  She  heeled  fifteen 
or  twenty  degrees  as  she  turned  six  points  to  star- 


78 


SEA-HOUNDS 


board,  and  the  boil  of  her  wake  flooded  across  her 
stern  three  or  four  feet  deep.  The  sudden  heel 
threw  me  off  my  feet,  and  I  pulled  up  just  in  time 
to  see  us  rushing  by,  and  just  missing  by  a  few 
yards,  a  stopped  destroyer  that  was  nothing  but 
spurts  of  fire  flashing  under  a  rolling  cloud  of 
steam  and  smoke. 

"  She  seemed  to  be  afire  all  over,  and  about  ready 
to  blow  up;  yet,  from  the  quick  flashes  of  some  of 
the  spurts  of  fire,  I  knew  they  came  from  a  hard- 
pumped  gun  that  some  stout-hearted  lads  were 
working  to  the  last.  There  was  nothing  in  the  look 
of  that  spouting  volcano  of  smoke  and  steam  that 
would  help  a  man  to  tell  whether  it  was  a  battle- 
ship or  a  trawler,  but  I  knew  that  it  could  be  only 
the  Nectarf  our  Division  leader.  We  never  saw 
her  nor  anyone  in  her  again.  She  must  have  gone 
down  within  a  few  minutes,  and  anyone  that  sur- 
vived fell  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  She  led  us 
a  fine  dance  while  it  lasted,  and  the  only  pity  was 
that  she  couldn't  trip  it  to  the  end. 

"  That  left  the  old  Nairobi  as  the  last  of  the  Divi- 
sion, and  I  haven't  any  recollection  of  any  of  the 
rest  of  the  flotilla  being  in  sight  by  then.  Not  that 
I  had  any  time  to  look  for  them,  though.  Our  sud- 
den change  of  course  to  keep  from  ramming  the 
Nectar  spoiled  our  chance  at  the  second  Hun 
cruiser,  but  we  were  left  no  time  to  mourn  that  any 
more  than  the  finish  of  the  Nectar.  Hardly  had  we 
left  the  wreck  of  her  astern  than  a  full  salvo  of 


"  BACK  FROM  THE  JAWS  " 


79 


large  shells — I  think  they  must  have  come  from  one 
of  the  battle  cruisers,  for  they  were  much  heavier 
than  anything  the  light  cruisers  were  firing — struck 
only  thirty  or  forty  yards  short  of  us.  The  shells 
were  bunched  together  like  a  salvo  of  air-bombs 
kicked  loose  all  at  once.  The  wall  of  water  they 
threw  up  shut  everything  on  that  side  off  from 
sight  for  a  few  seconds,  and  when  the  spouts  settled 
down  there  was  a  Hun  destroyer  inside  of  a  mile 
away.  I  jumped  up  to  give  her  course  and  speed  to 
the  (  T.I.',  but  before  I  had  time  more  than  to  see 
that  she  had  two  funnels  and  many  tubes  the  burst- 
ing projes  from  our  foremost  and  midships  guns 
began  knocking  her  to  pieces  so  fast  that  I  soon  saw 
there  was  no  use  of  wasting  a  mouldie  on  the  job. 

"  I  saw  the  captain  waving  encouragement  from 
the  bridge  to  the  crew  of  the  midships  guns,  and, 
when  the  noise  died  down  for  a  moment,  I  heard 
him  shout, '  You've  got  her !  Give  it  to  her ! '  Just 
then  another  salvo  was  plastered  a-straddle  of  us, 
and  I  saw  a  fragment  of  shell  knock  the  sight-setter 
of  the  midships  gun  out  of  his  seat.  He  looked  a 
little  dazed  as  he  climbed  back,  but  his  eye  must 
have  been  as  good  as  ever,  for  I  saw  his  next  shot 
make  a  hit  square  on  a  whaler  they  were  lowering 
from  the  sinking  Hun  and  blow  it  to  bits.  A  minute 
or  two  more,  and  the  destroyer  itself  blew  up  and 
disappeared  under  a  column  of  steam  and  smoke. 

"  That,"  continued  Prince,  beginning  to  prod 
anew  his  neglected  sprayers,  "  just  about  concluded 


80 


SEA-HOUNDS 


our  day's  work.  As  there  was  no  longer  any  pros- 
pect of  getting  in  mouldie-range  of  any  of  the  big 
Huns,  and  as  none  of  the  little  Huns  were  in  sight 
to  fight  with  gun-fire,  it  must  have  occurred  to  the 
captain  that  it  was  time  he  was  rejoining  the 
flotilla.  There  was  only  some  dark  blurs  on  the 
north'ard  skyline  to  steer  for  at  first,  and  the  Huns 
did  all  they  knew  to  keep  us  from  getting  there, 
too.  For  a  while  we -were  doing  nothing  but  play- 
ing '  hide-and-seek  '  among  the  salvoes  they  tried  to 
stop  us  with,  and  I  have  heard  since  that  the  way 
the  captain  used  his  helm  to  avoid  being  hit  at  this 
stage  of  the  show  was  rated  as  about  the  cleverest 
work  of  the  kind  in  the  whole  battle. 

"It  was  the  Fifth  B.S.— the  Queen  Elizabeth 
class — that  we  caught  up  to  first,  and  a  grand  sight 
it  was,  the  four  of  them  standing  up  and  giving 
battle  to  about  the  whole  of  the  High  Sea  Fleet. 
They  were  taking  a  heavy  pounding  without  turn- 
ing a  hair,  so  far  as  a  man  could  see,  and  even  when 
the  Warspite  had  her  steering  gear  knocked  out 
and  went  steaming  in  circles  it  didn't  seem  to  upset 
the  other  three  very  much.  We  sighted  our  own 
Battle  Fleet  about  six,  and  rejoined  the  flotilla  in 
good  time  to  be  back  with  the  battle  cruisers  when 
Beatty  took  them  round  the  head  of  the  Hun  line 
and  only  failed  to  cut  off  their  retreat  through 
night  coming  on. 

"  Compared  with  what  the  next  six  or  eight 
hours  held  for  some  of  our  destroyers — or  even 


«  BACK  FROM  THE  JAWS  » 


81 


with  what  we  had  just  been  through  ourselves — 
e  night  for  us  was  fairly  quiet.  We  were  in 
action  once  or  twice,  and  I  saw  several  ships — 
mostly  enemy,  but  one  or  two  of  our  own — go  up 
in  flame  and  smoke  before  I  went  on  watch  down 
here  at  midnight.  But  through  it  all  the  devil's 
own  luck  which  had  been  with  us  from  the  first 
held  good.  Although  we  were  through  the  very 
hottest  of  the  day  action,  and  not  the  least  of  the 
night,  the  old  Nairobi  did  not  receive  one  direct  hit 
from  an  enemy  shell.  She  accounted  for  at  least 
two  Hun  ships,  saw  the  other  three  destroyers  of 
her  division  sunk  or  put  out  of  action,  and  returned 
to  base  with  almost  empty  oil  tanks  and  perhaps 
the  largest  mileage  to  her  credit  of  any  craft  in 
the  Jutland  battle — all  without  a  serious  casualty 
or  more  than  a  few  scratches  to  her  paint.  On  top 
of  it  all,  on  the  way  back  to  harbour,  by  the  queer- 
est fluke  you  ever  heard  of,  she  rammed  and  ex- 
ploded the  air-chamber  of  a  mouldie  that  had  been 
fired  by  a  Hun  U-boat  at  the  destroyer  next  in  line 
ahead  of  her.  As  the  Yanks  say,  '  Can  you  beat 
it? ' » 


CHAPTER  IV 


I 


HUNTING 

F  it's  destroyer  work  you  want,  there  are  five 
of  them  getting  under  weigh  at  four 
o'clock,"  said  the  "  Senior  Officer  Present," 
looking  at  his  watch.  "  You'll  have  just  about 
time  to  pick  up  your  luggage  and  connect  if  you 
want  to  go.  I  can't  tell  you  what  they're  going  to 
do — they  won't  know  that  themselves  till  they  get 
to  sea,  and  their  orders  may  be  changed  from  hour 
to  hour,  and  things  may  happen  to  send  them  to 
the  Channel,  France,  or  to  several  other  places,  on 
and  off  the  chart,  before  they  put  in  here  again. 
But  there'll  be  work  to  do — plenty  of  it.  That's 
the  best  part  of  this  corner  of  the  North  Atlantic 
in  which  our  Allies  have  done  the  American  de- 
stroyers the  honour  of  setting  them  on  the  U-boats. 
Whatever  else  you  may  suffer  from,  it  won't  be 
from  ennui."  It  was  luck  indeed,  on  two  hours' 
notice,  to  have  the  chance  of  getting  out  in  just  the 
way  I  had  planned,  where  I  had  been  quite  pre- 
pared to  stand-by  for  twice  as  many  days,  and  I 
fell  in  with  the  arrangement  at  once. 

Captain  X ran  his  eye  down  a  board  where 

the  names  of  a  number  of  destroyers  were  dis- 


HUNTING 


83 


played  against  certain  data  indicating  their  where- 
abouts and  disposition.  "  Zop,  Zap,  Zip,  Zim, 
Zam"  he  read  musingly.  "  Zip — yes,  I  don't  think 
I  can  do  better  than  send  you  on  the  Zip.  Her 
skipper  is  as  keen  as  he  is  able,  and  the  Zip  herself 
has  the  reputation  of  having  something  of  a  nose 
for  U-boats  on  her  own  account  I'll  advise  him 
you're  coming.  Pick  up  your  sea  togs  and  put  off 
to  her  as  soon  as  you  can.  Good  luck."  The 
American  naval  officer,  like  the  British,  never  says 
"  Good-bye  "  if  it  can  possibly  be  avoided. 

They  were  already  preparing  to  unmoor  as  I 
clambered  over  the  side  of  the  Zip,  and  by  the  time 
I  had  shifted  to  sea-boots  and  oilskins  in  the  cap- 
tain's cabin — which,  unoccupied  by  himself  during 
that  strenuous  interval,  was  to  be  mine  at  sea — she 
was  swinging  in  the  stream  and  nosing  out  into  the 
creaming  wakes  of  the  two  of  her  dazzle-painted 
sisters  who  were  preceding  her  down  the  bay. 

There  are  several  things  that  strike  one  as  differ- 
ent on  going  to  an  American  warship  after  a  spell  in 
a  British  ship  of  the  same  class,  but  the  one  which 
surges  to  meet  you  and  goes  to  your  head  like  wine 
is  the  all-pervading  spirit  of  vibrant,  sparkling,  un- 
quenchable youthfulness.  Everything  you  see  and 
hear  seems  to  radiate  it — every  throb  of  the  en- 
gines/ every  beat  of  the  screws — and  at  first  you 
may  almost  get  the  impression  that  it  comes  from 
the  ship  herself.  But  when  you  start  to  trace  it 


SEA-HOUNDS 

down,  you  find  it  bubbles  from  a  single  fount,  the 
men,  or  rather  the  boys — the  lounging,  laughing, 
devil-may-care  boys.  Theirs  the  alchemy  to  trans- 
form every  one  and  everything  that  comes  near 
them  into  the  golden  seeming  of  themselves. 

This  youthfulness  of  the  American  destroyers  is 
in  the  crew  rather  than  the  officers,  for  the  latter- 
especial  ly  the  captain  and  executive — will  average, 
if  anything,  a  shade  older  than  their  "  opposite 
numbers  "  in  a  British  destroyer.  There  is  a  cer- 
tain minimum  of  highly  specialised  work  in  navi- 
gating and  fighting  a  destroyer  which  must  be  in 
the  hands  of  officers  and  men  who  can  have  only 
attained  the  requisite  training  in  long  years  of 
technical  study  and  practical  experience.  Given 
these,  and  the  remainder  of  the  ship's  company- 
provided  only  that  they  have  digestive  organs  that 
will  continue  to  function  when  tilted  through  a 
dozen  different  slants  and  angles  in  as  many  sec- 
onds— can  be  trained  to  perfection  in  an  astonish- 
ingly short  time.  Here  it  is  that  America  has 
scored,  for  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  youngsters 
that  have  rushed  to  enrol  themselves  for  her  de- 
stroyer service  are  better  educated  and  quicker  in 
mind  and  body  than  those  available  for  any  other 
navy  in  the  war.  It  is  the  incomparable  adapt- 
ability these  advantages  have  conspired  to  give  him 
that  has  made  the  Yankee  destroyer  rating  a  com- 
bination of  keenness  and  efficiency  that  leaves  little, 
if  anything,  to  be  desired  on  either  score. 


HUNTING 


85 


Here  is  the  way  a  British  naval  officer  who  is 
familiar  with  the  work  of  the  American  destroyer 
flotilla  expressed  himself  in  this  connection  :  "  The 
ship's  company  of  any  one  of  these  American  de- 
stroyers/' he  said,  "  will  average  a  good  five  years 
younger  than  that  of  a  British  destroyer.  Off 
hand,  one  would  say  that  this  would  tell  against 
them,  but,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  quite  the  contrary 
is  the  case. 

"  Given  that  the  command  and  the  technical  op- 
erations are  in  the  hands  of  highly  trained  and 
fairly  serious-minded  officers,  you  can't  have  too 
much  slapbang,  hell-for-leather,  devil-take-the-con- 
sequences  spirit  in  the  ship's  company.  And  where 
will  you  find  that  save  in  the  youngsters — tireless, 
fearless,  careless  boys.  They've  found  that  out  in 
the  air  services,  and  we're  finding  it  out  in  the  de- 
stroyers. And  right  there — in  these  quick-headed, 
quick-footed  super-boys  of  theirs — is  where  the  Yan- 
kee destroyers  have  the  best  of  us.  It  is  they — 
working  under  consummately  clever  officers — that 
enabled  the  American  destroyer  flotilla  to  reach 
in  a  stride  a  working  efficiency  which  we  had  been 
straining  up  to  for  three  years." 

The  green  hills  astern  had  turned  grey  and  dis- 
solved in  mist  and  darkness  before  the  captain  was 
able  to  announce  what  work  was  afoot  for  us.  The 
Zim  and  Zam,  it  appeared,  were  to  be  detached  on 
some  mission  of  their  own,  while  the  Zop,  Zap, 


86 


SEA-HOUNDS 


and  Zip,  after  "  hunting "  submarines  for  some 
time,  were  to  proceed  to  a  certain  port,  pick  up  the 
Lymptania,  and  escort  her  through  the  danger 
zone  on  her  westward  voyage.  The  captain  was 
grinning  as  he  finished  reading  the  order.  "  I  can't 
give  you  any  definite  assurance,"  he  said,  "  that 
the  hunt  part  of  the  stunt  is  going  to  scare  up  any 
U-boats,  although  the  prospects  this  week  are  more 
promising  than  for  some  time ;  but "  —he  turned 
his  level  gaze  to  the  westward,  where  the  in-rolling 
Atlantic  swells  were  blotting  with  undulant  humps 
the  fading  primrose  of  the  narrow  strip  of  after- 
glow— "  if  this  wind  and  sea  keep  the  same  force 
and  direction  for  three  or  four  days  more,  I'll 
promise  you  all  the  excitement  your  heart  can  de- 
sire when  we  take  on  our  escort  duties.  The  last 
time  we  took  out  the  old  Lymptania — well,  I've 
got  marks  on  me  yet  from  the  corners  I  got  banged 
up  against,  and  as  for  the  poor  little  Zip — but  she's 
had  a  refit  since  and  most  of  the  scars  have  been 
removed.  As  you  will  have  ample  chance  to  see 
for  yourself,  there  isn't  a  lot  of  dolce  far  niente  in 
any  of  this  life  we  lead  in  connection  with  our  little 
game  here,  but  if  there  is  one  phase  of  our  activities 
that  is  farther  removed  from  '  peace,  perfect  peace ' 
than  any  other,  it  is  trying  to  screen  an  ex- Atlantic 
greyhound  that  is  boring  at  umpty-ump  knots  into 
a  head  wind  and  sea.  Strafing  U-boats  is  a  Sun- 
day-school picnic  in  comparison  at  any  time;  but 
it  will  be  worse  this  week  because  they  have  just 


«  BACK  FROM  THE  JAWS  " 


71 


secondaries.  Anyhow,  the  first  thing  I  remember 
was  that  she  was  gone,  and  that  the  Nectar  was 
leading  the  Nairobi — all  that  was  left  of  the  divi- 
sion— on  a  course  to  cross  the  bows  of  the  enemy 
battle  cruisers.  The  Hun  destroyers,  which  had  no 
chance  with  us  in  a  gun  fight,  had  now  turned  tail 
and  were  heading  back  for  the  shelter  of  their  battle 
line.  Several  of  them  appeared  on  fire,  but  I  didn't 
see  any  sinking. 

"  I  am  not  quite  sure  what  orders  were  made  to 
the  flotilla  at  this  time,  but  I  rather  think  that  after 
the  Hun  attack  had  been  stopped  the  signal  was 
hoisted  to  return  to  the  battle  cruisers.  I  think  that 
is  what  the  other  divisions  did  do,  but  for  our  divi- 
sion— or  what  remained  of  it — things  were  looking 
too  promising  just  then  to  turn  our  backs  on.  I 
was  standing  by  the  foremost  tubes  at  the  time,  and 
all  of  a  sudden  the  Hun  line  began  to  turn  away, 
and  I  saw  that  the  leading  ship  was  being  heavily 
hit  and  that  she  was  afire  in  two  or  three  places.  As 
she  turned  she  presented  us  a  fine  broadside  target 
at  about  three  thousand  yards,  and  the  order  came 
from  the  bridge  to  '  Stand  by  foremost  tubes  and 
fire  when  sights  come  on.' 

"  The  turning  of  the  Hun  battle  cruiser  line  ex- 
posed us  to  the  fire  of  a  number  of  his  light  cruisers 
which  had  been  seeking  shelter  behind  it,  and  some 
smashing  salvoes  from  these  began  to  plump  down 
all  around  us  just  as  we  got  ready  to  launch  the  tor- 
pedoes. Though  there  was  not  one  direct  hit,  we 


72 


SEA-HOUNDS 


were  '  straddled '  a  dozen  times,  and  the  foam 
spouts  tossed  up  by  the  shells  exploding  on  striking 
the  water  made  a  wall  of  smoke  and  spray  that  al- 
most shut  off  a  view  of  our  target.  Shell  fragments 
were  slamming  up  against  the  funnels  and  tinkling 
on  the  decks,  and  I  believe  two  or  three  men  were 
hit  by  them,  though  not  much  hurt.  It  was  this  sud- 
den savage  shelling  that  spoiled  the  only  chance  we 
had  at  the  Hun  big  'uns.  Just  as  the  sights  were  com- 
ing on  to  the  leading  ship  a  salvo  came  down  ker- 
plump  right  abreast  of  the  foremost  tubes,  throwing 
a  solid  spout  of  green  water  all  over  them.  I  saw 
both  mouldies  start  to  slide  out,  but  only  one  struck 
the  water  and  began  to  run.  A  moment  later  I  saw 
that  the  other,  for  some  reason  we  never  found  out, 
but  probably  because  it  had  been  knocked  sideways 
by  the  rush  of  water  or  perhaps  a  fragment  of  shell, 
was  hanging  by  its  tail  to  the  lip  of  the  tube,  with 
its  war-head  full  of  gun-cotton  trailing  in  the  sea. 
It  cleared  itself  when  the  next  sea  slapped  it  against 
the  side,  and  started  diving  and  jumping  about  like 
a  wounded  porpoise,  most  likely  because  its  pro- 
pellers had  been  knocked  out.  Luckily,  our  speed 
carried  us  on  before  it  had  a  chance  to  '  boomerang ' 
back  and  blow  up  the  old  Nairobi.  We  could  not 
watch  the  first  torpedo  run  on  account  of  the  spouts 
from  the  falling  shells,  but  though  it  started  right 
to  cross  the  enemy's  line,  there  was  nothing  to  make 
us  believe  it  scored  a  hit. 

"  Before  there  was  time  to  grieve  over  losing  our 


«  BACK  FROM  THE  JAWS  » 


73 


chance  at  the  battle  cruisers  the  *  T.I.'  called  me  to 
give  him  a  hand  with  the  'midships'  tubes,  as  one 
of  his  men  had  been  knocked  out.  '  There's  a  light 
cruiser  just  going  to  bear  for  a  shot/  he  jelled 
from  his  seat  between  the  tubes  as  I  ran  round  to 
the  breech ;  '  jump  up  and  tell  me  what  speed  she's 
making.  I  can't  see  her  fair  from  here.'  The  trouble 
was  that  the  awful  speed  the  Nairobi  was  going  at 
settled  her  down  so  low  that,  anywhere  abaft  the 
bridge,  a  man  couldn't  see  over  the  bow  wave  from 
the  deck.  But,  standing  on  top  of  the  tubes,  I  was 
high  enough  to  get  a  good  look  at  the  Hun,  when  he 
wasn't  shut  off  by  the  spouts  from  the  fall  of  shot. 
He  was  a  small  three-funnelled  light  cruiser,  and 
every  gun  he  had  looked  to  be  training  on  us. 
Another  cruiser  astern  of  him  was  also  firing  on  the 
Nairobi,  while  two  or  three  others  were  concentrat- 
ing on  the  Nectar.  She  was  getting  it  even  hotter 
than  we  were,  and  all  I  could  see  of  her — when  one 
of  her  zigzags  brought  her  to  one  side  or  the  other 
so  the  bridge  didn't  cut  her  off  from  my  view — was 
some  masts  and  funnels  sliding  along  in  the  middle 
of  a  dancing  patch  of  foam  fountains.  Both  Nectar 
and  Nairobi  were  replying  for  all  they  were  worth 
with  their  foremost  guns;  the  after  ones  were  too 
low  down  to  fire  at  such  close  range  with  much 
effect.  I  saw  one  of  our  shells  bursting  on  the  Huns, 
and  why  their  shooting  at  us  was  so  bad  I  have 
never  quite  understood.  The  fact  we  were  settled 
so  deep  aft  from  our  speed  was  plainly  making  a  lot 


74 


SEA-HOUNDS 


of  shells  ricochet  over  wlial,  would  otherwise  have 
been  hi  is,  but,  at  the  same  time,  the  bows  being  so 
much  higher  out  of  the  water  offered  all  the  more 
target  forward.  It  was  more  'Joss'  than  anything 
else,  I  suppose.  Besides,  the  Nectar  was  just  on 
the  edge  of  getting  hers  anyhow. 

"  I  saw  all  these  things  out  of  the  corner  of  m; 
eye  like,  for  my  mind  was  centred  on  getting  what 
the  'T.I.'  wanted  to  know  about  his  cruiser.  I 
knew  just  what  this  was  to  a  '  t,'  for  I'd  taken  many 
a  turn  of  drill  at  the  tubes.  'Parallel  courses, 
thousand  yards  range,  speed  about  twenty-five,'  I 
shouted,  jumping  down  again;  'and  you'll  have  to 
slip  her  right  smart  or  you'll  miss  your  chance/ 
Kight  then  the  seas  flattened  down  for  a  few  sec- 
onds, and  the  '  T.I.',  giving  me  an  order  of  how  to 
train  her,  set  his  sights  and  pulled  the  cocking 
lever.  A  moment  later  he  fired,  and  the  inouldie 
slipped  out  smooth  and  easy  and  started  running 
straight  and  true  for  a  point  the  Ilun  was  going  to 
arrive  at  about  a  minute  later." 

Prince  had  been  poking  away  at,  a  sprayer  as  he 
talked,  wilh  the  fluttering  light-mote  from  the  fire 
in  the  heart  of  the  furnace  playing  on  one  of  his 
squinting  eyes  in  a  way  that,  with  the  other 
quenched  ill  shadow,  gave  his  face  a  look  of  Cyclo- 
pean fierceness.  "  I  jumped  up  on  the  tubes  again  to 
follow  our  little  tin  iish  on  its  swim,"  lie  resumed. 
"  There  seemed  to  be  a  bit  of  a  flap  on  the  cruiser, 
for  its  next  salvo  fell  a  long  way  short  of  us.  One 


«  BACK  FROM  THE  JAWS  " 


75 


of  the  shells — a  five-  or  six-incher — did  not  explode, 
but  bounced  off  the  water  and  came  *  skip-jacking ' 
along  straight  for  us.  It  kicked  into  the  water 
twice  before  it  reached  us,  the  second  time  right 
at  the  base  of  the  wave  that  was  rolling  up  and 
hiding  our  sunken  stern,  and  that  seemed  to  give 
it  just  enough  of  an  up-flip  to  make  it  clear  the 
Nairobi's  shivering  hull.  It  came  so  slow  that  I 
caught  the  glint  of  the  copper  band  round  its  base, 
and  so  low  that  the  after  superstructure  blotted  it 
off  from  my  sight  as  it  passed  over  the  stern.  One  of 
the  after  gun's  crew  told  me  he  could  have  reached 
up  and  patted  it  as  it  tumbled  along  over  his  head. 
He  said  it  was  going  so  slow  that  he  hardly  felt  any 
wind  at  all  from  it.  Perhaps  that  was  because  he 
had  his  own  wind  up,  though,  for  it  was  making  a 
great  buzz,  and  must  have  been  carrying  a  big 
'  tail '  of  air  in  its  wake. 

"  I  lost  track  of  our  mouldie  when  I  ducked — no, 
I  don't  mind  admitting  Hint's  just  what  I  did, 
though  it  missed  me  by  a  mile — and  before  I  could 
get  my  eye  on  its  wake  again  it  had  gone  home.  I 
think  they  must  have  spotted  it  coming  on  the 
cruiser,  for  I  saw  her  begin  to  alter  course  away 
just  about  the  time  I  figured  it  was  due  to  arrive. 
If  they  were  altering  to  avoid  the  mouldie,  they 
turned  the  wrong  way,  for  it  only  brought  right 
abreast  the  funnels  what'd  'a'  been  a  hit  somewhere 
about  the  bridge.  I've  got  a  picture  in  my  mind 
of  what  happened  that  I'm  dead  certain  is  as  true 


76 


SEA-HOUNDS 


as  a  photograph,  and  the  spout  of  water  that  went 
up  must  have  been  almost  exactly  amidships.  If 
the  hit  had  been  anywhere  for'rard  it  would  never 
have  broken  her  back  the  way  it  did,  and  she  might 
have  got  away.  The  funny  part  of  it  was  that  it 
was  not  the  -midships  section  of  her,  where  the 
mouldie  hit,  that  seemed  to  be  lifted  by  the  ex- 
plosion. That  part  of  her  seemed  just  to  go  to 
pieces  and  begin  to  sink  all  at  once,  while  the  bow 
and  stern  halves  started  to  come  up  and  close  to- 
gether like  a  jack-knife.  She  must  have  gone  down 
inside  of  a  minute  or  two,  but  things  were  hap- 
pening so  fast  I  don't  think  I  was  looking  when  she 
disappeared." 

Prince,  engrossed  in  his  story,  forgot  that  the  end 
of  his  poker  had  a  sheet  of  flame  playing  upon  it, 
and  the  heat  which  crept  back  from  the  rosy-red  tip 
gave  his  palm  a  sharp  singe  as  he  clutched  the 
handle  preparatory  to  executing  one  of  his  sweep- 
ing gestures.  From  then  on  to  the  end  of  his  nar- 
rative he  paused  frequently  to  lick  with  his  tongue 
the  blistered  cuticle,  the  stoker's  sovereign  remedy 
for  a  slight  burn.  "  I  was  just  starting  to  give  the 
'  T.I.'  an  account  of  what  I  had  had  a  lot  better 
chance  to  see  than  he  had,"  he  went  on  thickly, 
still  touching  the  blisters  gingerly  with  an  extended 
tongue-tip,  "when  I  heard  him  growl,  '  Stand  by! 
here's  another  one.  What  speed  d'you  think  she's 
making? '  I  was  still  standing  up  on  top  of  the 
tubes,  and — to  get  a  better  view — right  in  front  of 


"  BACK  FROM  THE  JAWS  " 


77 


the  '  T.I.',  with  my  waist  on  just  about  the  level  of 
his  face.  As  I  turned  my  head  to  look  at  the  sec- 
ond Hun  he  straddled  us  fair  with  a  full  salvo. 
Most  of  it  went  over,  but  one  proj  struck  right 
alongside  and  just  about  flooded  us  out.  But  there 
was  something  heavier  than  water  that  it  sent 
aboard.  I  felt  a  sharp  sting  across  my  stomach, 
as  if  someone  had  given  me  a  cut  with  a  whip.  As 
I  put  my  hand  down  to  it  the  whole  front  of  my 
overall  dropped  away  where  a  fragment  of  shell 
casing  had  shot  across  it.  A  few  threads — I  found 
out  later — had  been  started  on  my  singlet,  but  my 
hide  was  not  even  scratched.  I  heard  the '  T.I.'  give 
a  yell,  and  when  I  looked  round  saw  his  face 
covered  with  blood,  and  a  flap  of  skin  from  his  fore- 
head hanging  down  over  one  eye  like  a  skye  terrier's 
ear.  The  piece  of  proj  had  caught  him  a  nasty 
side-swipe,  though  without  hurting  anything  but 
his  looks  in  the  least.  And  it  wasn't  that  he  was 
yelling  about,  either,  but  at  me  for  not  giving  him 
the  course  and  speed  of  the  second  cruiser.  He  had 
the  flap  of  skin  tied  up  out  of  his  eye — using  a  strip 
of  my  overall  because  neither  of  us  could  find  a 
handkerchief — by  the  time  I  was  back  at  the  handle. 
I  saw  the  blood  dribbling  over  his  sights,  but  he 
seemed  to  be  seeing  through  them  all  right,  for  he 
was  telling  me  how  to  train  when  I  felt  the  helm 
begin  to  grind  as  it  was  thrown  hard  over  to  make 
a  sudden  alteration  of  course.  She  heeled  fifteen 
or  twenty  degrees  as  she  turned  six  points  to  star- 


78 


SEA-HOUNDS 


board,  and  the  boil  of  her  wake  flooded  across  her 
stern  three  or  four  feet  deep.  The  sudden  heel 
threw  me  off  my  feet,  and  I  pulled  up  just  in  time 
to  see  us  rushing  by,  and  just  missing  by  a  few 
yards,  a  stopped  destroyer  that  was  nothing  but 
spurts  of  fire  flashing  under  a  rolling  cloud  of 
steam  and  smoke. 

"  She  seemed  to  be  afire  all  over,  and  about  ready 
to  blow  up ;  yet,  from  the  quick  flashes  of  some  of 
the  spurts  of  fire,  I  knew  they  came  from  a  hard- 
pumped  gun  that  some  stout-hearted  lads  were 
working  to  the  last.  There  was  nothing  in  the  look 
of  that  spouting  volcano  of  smoke  and  steam  that 
would  help  a  man  to  tell  whether  it  was  a  battle- 
ship or  a  trawler,  but  I  knew  that  it  could  be  only 
the  Nectar,  our  Division  leader.  We  never  saw 
her  nor  anyone  in  her  again.  She  must  have  gone 
down  within  a  few  minutes,  and  anyone  that  sur- 
vived fell  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  She  led  us 
a  fine  dance  while  it  lasted,  and  the  only  pity  was 
that  she  couldn't  trip  it  to  the  end. 

"  That  left  the  old  Nairobi  as  the  last  of  the  Divi- 
sion, and  I  haven't  any  recollection  of  any  of  the 
rest  of  the  flotilla  being  in  sight  by  then.  Not  that 
I  had  any  time  to  look  for  them,  though.  Our  sud- 
den change  of  course  to  keep  from  ramming  the 
Nectar  spoiled  our  chance  at  the  second  Hun 
cruiser,  but  we  were  left  no  time  to  mourn  that  any 
more  than  the  finish  of  the  Nectar.  Hardly  had  we 
left  the  wreck  of  her  astern  than  a  full  salvo  of 


"  BACK  FROM  THE  JAWS  "  79 

large  shells — I  think  they  must  have  come  from  one 
of  the  battle  cruisers,  for  they  were  much  heavier 
than  anything  the  light  cruisers  were  firing — struck 
only  thirty  or  forty  yards  short  of  us.  The  shells 
were  bunched  together  like  a  salvo  of  air-bombs 
kicked  loose  all  at  once.  The  wall  of  water  they 
threw  up  shut  everything  on  that  side  off  from 
sight  for  a  few  seconds,  and  when  the  spouts  settled 
down  there  was  a  Hun  destroyer  inside  of  a  mile 
away.  I  jumped  up  to  give  her  course  and  speed  to 
the  '  T.I.',  but  before  I  had  time  more  than  to  see 
that  she  had  two  funnels  and  many  tubes  the  burst- 
ing projes  from  our  foremost  and  midships  guns 
began  knocking  her  to  pieces  so  fast  that  I  soon  saw 
there  was  no  use  of  wasting  a  mouldie  on  the  job. 

"  I  saw  the  captain  waving  encouragement  from 
the  bridge  to  the  crew  of  the  midships  guns,  and, 
when  the  noise  died  dowrn  for  a  moment,  I  heard 
him  shout, '  You've  got  her !  Give  it  to  her ! '  Just 
then  another  salvo  was  plastered  a-straddle  of  us, 
and  I  saw  a  fragment  of  shell  knock  the  sight-setter 
of  the  midships  gun  out  of  his  seat.  He  looked  a 
little  dazed  as  he  climbed  back,  but  his  eye  must 
have  been  as  good  as  ever,  for  I  saw  his  next  shot 
make  a  hit  square  on  a  whaler  they  were  lowering 
from  the  sinking  Hun  and  blow  it  to  bits.  A  minute 
or  two  more,  and  the  destroyer  itself  blew  up  and 
disappeared  under  a  column  of  steam  and  smoke. 

"  That,"  continued  Prince,  beginning  to  prod 
anew  his  neglected  sprayers,  "  just  about  concluded 


SEA-HOUNDS 


our  day's  work.  As  there  was  no  longer  any  pros- 
pect of  getting  in  mouldie-range  of  any  of  the  big 
Huns,  and  as  none  of  the  little  Huns  were  in  sight 
to  fight  with  gun-fire,  it  must  have  occurred  to  the 
captain  that  it  was  time  he  was  rejoining  the 
flotilla.  There  was  only  some  dark  blurs  on  the 
north'ard  skyline  to  steer  for  at  first,  and  the  Huns 
did  all  they  knew  to  keep  us  from  getting  there, 
too.  For  a  while  we  were  doing  nothing  but  play- 
ing '  hide-and-seek  '  among  the  salvoes  they  tried  to 
stop  us  with,  and  I  have  heard  since  that  the  way 
the  captain  used  his  helm  to  avoid  being  hit  at  this 
stage  of  the  show  was  rated  as  about  the  cleverest 
work  of  the  kind  in  the  whole  battle. 

"  It  was  the  Fifth  B.S.— the  Queen  Elizabeth 
class — that  we  caught  up  to  first,  and  a  grand  sight 
it  was,  the  four  of  them  standing  up  and  giving 
battle  to  about  the  whole  of  the  High  Sea  Fleet. 
They  were  taking  a  heavy  pounding  without  turn- 
ing a  hair,  so  far  as  a  man  could  see,  and  even  when 
the  Warspite  had  her  steering  gear  knocked  out 
and  went  steaming  in  circles  it  didn't  seem  to  upset 
the  other  three  very  much.  We  sighted  our  own 
Battle  Fleet  about  six,  and  rejoined  the  flotilla  in 
good  time  to  be  back  with  the  battle  cruisers  when 
Beatty  took  them  round  the  head  of  the  Hun  line 
and  only  failed  to  cut  off  their  retreat  through 
night  coming  on. 

"  Compared  with  what  the  next  six  or  eight 
hours  held  for  some  of  our  destrovers — or  even 


"  BACK  FROM  THE  JAWS  " 


81 


with  what  we  had  just  been  through  ourselves — 
the  night  for  us  was  fairly  quiet.  We  were  in 
action  once  or  twice,  and  I  saw  several  ships— 
mostly  enemy,  but  one  or  two  of  our  own — go  up 
in  flame  and  smoke  before  I  went  on  watch  down 
here  at  midnight.  But  through  it  all  the  devil's 
own  luck  which  had  been  with  us  from  the  first 
held  good.  Although  we  were  through  the  very 
hottest  of  the  day  action,  and  not  the  least  of  the 
night,  the  old  Nairobi  did  not  receive  one  direct  hit 
from  an  enemy  shell.  She  accounted  for  at  least 
two  Hun  ships,  saw  the  other  three  destroyers  of 
her  division  sunk  or  put  out  of  action,  and  returned 
to  base  with  almost  empty  oil  tanks  and  perhaps 
the  largest  mileage  to  her  credit  of  any  craft  in 
the  Jutland  battle — all  without  a  serious  casualty 
or  more  than  a  few  scratches  to  her  paint.  On  top 
of  it  all,  on  the  way  back  to  harbour,  by  the  queer- 
est fluke  you  ever  heard  of,  she  rammed  and  ex- 
ploded the  air-chamber  of  a  mouldie  that  had  been 
fired  by  a  Hun  U-boat  at  the  destroyer  next  in  line 
ahead  of  her.  As  the  Yanks  say,  *  Can  you  beat 
it? ' » 


CHAPTER  IV 


I 


HUNTING 

P  it's  destroyer  work  you  want,  there  are  five 
of  them  getting  under  weigh  at  four 
o'clock,"  said  the  "  Senior  Officer  Present," 
looking  at  his  watch.  "  You'll  have  just  about 
time  to  pick  up  your  luggage  and  connect  if  you 
want  to  go.  I  can't  tell  you  what  they're  going  to 
do — they  won't  know  that  themselves  till  they  get 
to  sea,  and  their  orders  may  be  changed  from  hour 
to  hour,  and  things  may  happen  to  send  them  to 
the  Channel,  France,  or  to  several  other  places,  on 
and  off  the  chart,  before  they  put  in  here  again. 
But  there'll  be  work  to  do — plenty  of  it.  That's 
the  best  part  of  this  corner  of  the  North  Atlantic 
in  which  our  Allies  have  done  the  American  de- 
stroyers the  honour  of  setting  them  on  the  U-boats. 
Whatever  else  you  may  suffer  from,  it  won't  be 
from  ennui."  It  was  luck  indeed,  on  two  hours' 
notice,  to  have  the  chance  of  getting  out  in  just  the 
way  I  had  planned,  where  I  had  been  quite  pre- 
pared to  stand-by  for  twice  as  many  days,  and  I 
fell  in  with  the  arrangement  at  once. 

Captain  X ran  his  eye  down  a  board  where 

the  names  of  a  number  of  destroyers  were  dis- 

82 


HUNTING 


83 


played  against  certain  data  indicating  their  where- 
abouts and  disposition.  "  Zop,  Zap,  Zip,  Zim, 
Zam,"  he  read  musingly.  "  Zip — yes,  I  don't  think 
I  can  do  better  than  send  you  on  the  Zip.  Her 
skipper  is  as  keen  as  he  is  able,  and  the  Zip  herself 
has  the  reputation  of  having  something  of  a  nose 
for  U-boats  on  her  own  account.  I'll  advise  him 
you're  coming.  Pick  up  your  sea  togs  and  put  off 
to  her  as  soon  as  you  can.  Good  luck."  The 
American  naval  officer,  like  the  British,  never  says 
"  Good-bye  "  if  it  can  possibly  be  avoided. 

They  were  already  preparing  to  unmoor  as  I 
clambered  over  the  side  of  the  Zip,  and  by  the  time 
I  had  shifted  to  sea-boots  and  oilskins  in  the  cap- 
tain's cabin — which,  unoccupied  by  himself  during 
that  strenuous  interval,  was  to  be  mine  at  sea — she 
was  swinging  in  the  stream  and  nosing  out  into  the 
creaming  wakes  of  the  two  of  her  dazzle-painted 
sisters  who  were  preceding  her  down  the  bay. 

There  are  several  things  that  strike  one  as  differ- 
ent on  going  to  an  American  warship  after  a  spell  in 
a  British  ship  of  the  same  class,  but  the  one  which 
surges  to  meet  you  and  goes  to  your  head  like  wine 
is  the  all-pervading  spirit  of  vibrant,  sparkling,  un- 
quenchable youthfulness.  Everything  you  see  and 
hear  seems  to  radiate  it — every  throb  of  the  en- 
gines, every  beat  of  the  screws — and  at  first  you 
may  almost  get  the  impression  that  it  comes  from 
the  ship  herself.  But  when  you  start  to  trace  it 


SEA-HOUNDS 

down,  you  find  it  bubbles  from  a  single  fount,  the 
men,  or  rather  the  boys — the  lounging,  laughing, 
devil-may-care  boys.  Theirs  the  alchemy  to  trans- 
form every  one  and  everything  that  comes  near 
them  into  the  golden  seeming  of  themselves. 

This  youthfulness  of  the  American  destroyers  is 
in  the  crew  rather  than  the  officers,  for  the  latter — 
especially  the  captain  and  executive — will  average, 
if  anything,  a  shade  older  than  their  "  opposite 
numbers  "  in  a  British  destroyer.  There  is  a  cer- 
tain minimum  of  highly  specialised  work  in  navi- 
gating and  fighting  a  destroyer  which  must  be  in 
the  hands  of  officers  and  men  who  can  have  only 
attained  the  requisite  training  in  long  years  of 
technical  study  and  practical  experience.  Given 
these,  and  the  remainder  of  the  ship's  company- 
provided  only  that  they  have  digestive  organs  that 
will  continue  to  function  when  tilted  through  a 
dozen  different  slants  and  angles  in  as  many  sec- 
onds— can  be  trained  to  perfection  in  an  astonish- 
ingly short  time.  Here  it  is  that  America  has 
scored,  for  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  youngsters 
that  have  rushed  to  enrol  themselves  for  her  de- 
stroyer service  are  better  educated  and  quicker  in 
mind  and  body  than  those  available  for  any  other 
navy  in  the  war.  It  is  the  incomparable  adapt- 
ability these  advantages  have  conspired  to  give  him 
that  has  made  the  Yankee  destroyer  rating  a  com- 
bination of  keenness  and  efficiency  that  leaves  little, 
if  anything,  to  be  desired  on  either  score. 


HUNTING 


85 


Here  is  the  way  a  British  naval  officer  who  is 
familiar  with  the  work  of  the  American  destroyer 
flotilla  expressed  himself  in  this  connection :  "  The 
ship's  company  of  any  one  of  these  American  de- 
stroyers," he  said,  "  will  average  a  good  five  years 
younger  than  that  of  a  British  destroyer.  Off 
hand,  one  would  say  that  this  would  tell  against 
them,  but,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  quite  the  contrary 
is  the  case. 

"  Given  that  the  command  and  the  technical  op- 
erations are  in  the  hands  of  highly  trained  and 
fairly  serious-minded  officers,  you  can't  have  too 
much  slapbang,  hell-for-leather,  devil-take-the-con- 
sequences  spirit  in  the  ship's  company.  And  where 
will  you  find  that  save  in  the  youngsters — tireless, 
fearless,  careless  boys.  They've  found  that  out  in 
the  air  services,  and  we're  finding  it  out  in  the  de- 
stroyers. And  right  there — in  these  quick-headed, 
quick-footed  super-boys  of  theirs — is  where  the  Yan- 
kee destroyers  have  the  best  of  us.  It  is  they— 
working  under  consummately  clever  officers — that 
enabled  the  American  destroyer  flotilla  to  reach 
in  a  stride  a  working  efficiency  which  we  had  been 
straining  up  to  for  three  years." 

The  green  hills  astern  had  turned  grey  and  dis- 
solved in  mist  and  darkness  before  the  captain  was 
able  to  announce  what  work  was  afoot  for  us.  The 
Zim  and  Zam,  it  appeared,  were  to  be  detached  on 
some  mission  of  their  own,  while  the  Zop,  Zap, 


86 


SEA-HOUNDS 


and  Zip,  after  "  hunting "  submarines  for  some 
time,  were  to  proceed  to  a  certain  port,  pick  up  the 
Lymptania,  and  escort  her  through  the  danger 
zone  on  her  westward  voyage.  The  captain  was 
grinning  as  he  finished  reading  the  order.  "  I  can't 
give  you  any  definite  assurance/'  he  said,  "  that 
the  hunt  part  of  the  stunt  is  going  to  scare  up  any 
U-boats,  although  the  prospects  this  week  are  more 
promising  than  for  some  time;  but" — he  turned 
his  level  gaze  to  the  westward,  where  the  in-rolling 
Atlantic  swells  were  blotting  with  undulant  humps 
the  fading  primrose  of  the  narrow  strip  of  after- 
glow— "if  this  wind  and  sea  keep  the  same  force 
and  direction  for  three  or  four  days  more,  I'll 
promise  you  all  the  excitement  your  heart  can  de- 
sire when  we  take  on  our  escort  duties.  The  last 
time  we  took  out  the  old  Lymptania — well,  I've 
got  marks  on  me  yet  from  the  corners  I  got  banged 
up  against,  and  as  for  the  poor  little  Zip — but  she's 
had  a  refit  since  and  most  of  the  scars  have  been 
removed.  As  you  will  have  ample  chance  to  see 
for  yourself,  there  isn't  a  lot  of  dolce  far  niente  in 
any  of  this  life  we  lead  in  connection  with  our  little 
game  here,  but  if  there  is  one  phase  of  our  activities 
that  is  farther  removed  from  '  peace,  perfect  peace ' 
than  any  other,  it  is  trying  to  screen  an  ex- Atlantic 
greyhound  that  is  boring  at  umpty-ump  knots  into 
a  head  wind  and  sea.  Strafing  U-boats  is  a  Sun- 
day-school picnic  in  comparison  at  any  time;  but 
it  will  be  worse  this  week  because  they  have  just 


HUNTING 


87 


put  down  a  couple  of  big  liners,  and  the  skipper  of 
the  Lymptania,  knowing  they  will  be  laying  for 
him,  will  force  her  like  he  was  trying  to  get  his 
company  the  trans-Atlantic  mail  subsidy.  For  us 
to  cut  zigzags  around  that  kind  of  a  thing — but 
you'll  be  able  to  judge  for  yourself.  I  only  hope 
we  can  catch  you  a  U-boat  or  two  by  way  of  pre- 
liminary, so  as  to  lead  up  to  the  climax  by  slow 
degrees." 

Things  were  fairly  comfy  that  night — that  is,  as 
comfort  goes  in  a  destroyer.  There  was  a  good  stiff 
wind  and  a  good  deal  more  than  a  lop  of  sea  run- 
ning; but  as  both  were  coming  on  the  quarter  and 
we  were  plodding  along  at  no  great  speed,  the  Zip 
made  very  passable  weather  of  it.  The  bridge,  save 
for  occasional  showers  of  light  spray  where  a  sea 
slapped  over  the  side,  was  quite  dry,  and  even  on 
the  long  run  of  low  deck  amidships  there  were  sev- 
eral havens  of  refuge  where  the  men  off  watch  could 
foregather  to  smoke  and  yarn  without  fear  of  more 
than  an  occasional  spurt  of  brine.  A  dry  deck 
does  not  chance  every  day  that  a  destroyer  is  on 
business  bent  at  sea,  and  when  it  does,  like  sun- 
shine in  Scotland,  is  a  thing  to  luxuriate  in. 

As  the  twilight  deepened  and  melted  into  the 
light  of  a  moon  that  was  but  a  day  or  two  from  the 
full — "  bad  luck  for  the  Lymptania  convoy,  that 
moon,"  the  captain  had  said  as  he  noted  how  it  was 
waxing  on  his  chart — I  came  down  from  the  bridge 
and  worked  along  from  group  to  group  of  the  sailor 


88 


SEA-HOUNDS 


men  where,  lounging  and  laughing,  they  sheltered 
in  the  lee  of  funnel  and  boat  and  superstructure. 
The  first  one  I  pushed  into  was  centred  round  a 
discussion,  or  rather  an  argument,  between  two 
boys,  the  one  from  Kansas  and  the  other  from 
Oklahoma,  as  to  which  had  raised  the  best  and 
biggest  corn  in  the  course  of  some  sort  of  growing 
competitions  they  had  once  taken  part  in.  Several 
others  standing  about  also  appeared  to  have  come 
from  one  or  other  of  those  fine  naval-recruiting 
States  of  the  Middle  West,  and  seemed  to  know 
not  a  little  about  intensive  maize  culture  them- 
selves. I  was  just  ingratiating  myself  with  this 
party  by  nodding  assent  and  voicing  an  emphatic 
"  Sure!  "  to  one's  query  of  "  Some  corn  that,  mister, 
hey?"  when  I  discovered  a  cosmopolitan  group 
(two  Filipino  stewards,  the  coloured  cook,  and 
three  or  four  bluejackets  in  sleeveless  grey 
sweaters)  collaborating  in  the  arduous  task  of 
teaching  a  very  sad-faced  white  mongrel  to  sit  up  on 
his  haunches  and  beg.  Or  rather  it  was  an  elabora- 
tion of  that  classic  trick.  On  drawing  nearer  I 
perceived  that  the  lugubrious-visaged  canine 
already  had  mastered  begging  for  food,  and  that 
now  they  were  endeavouring  to  teach  him  to  beg 
for  mercy.  At  the  order  "  Kamerad !  "  instead  of 
sitting  with  down-drooping  paws,  he  was  being 
instructed  to  raise  the  latter  above  his  head  and 
give  tongue  to  a  wail  of  entreaty.  He  was  a 
brighter  pup  than  his  looks  would  have  indicated, 


HUNTING 


89 


and  had  already  become  letter  perfect  in  the  wail. 
"  Kamerading  "  properly  with  uplifted  paws,  how- 
ever, was  rather  too  much  for  his  balance,  at  least 
while  teetering  on  the  edge  of  a  condensed  milk 
case  which  was  itself  sliding  about  the  deck  of  a 
careening  destroyer.  The  dog  had  been  christened 
"  Ole  Oleson,"  one  of  the  sailors  told  me,  both  be- 
cause he  was  "  some  kind  of  a  Swede  "  and  because, 
like  his  famous  namesake,  he  had  tried  to  come 
aboard  in  "  two  jumps  "  the  day  they  found  him 
perched  on  a  bit  of  wreckage  of  the  Norwegian 
barque  to  which  he  had  belonged,  and  which  had 
been  sunk  by  a  U-boat  an  hour  previously.  The  men 
seemed  to  be  very  fond  of  him,  and  I  overheard  the 
one  who  picked  him  up  off  the  box  to  make  a  place 
for  me  to  sit  on,  whisper  into  his  cocked  ear  that 
they  were  going  to  try  to  catch  a  Hun  in  the  next 
day  or  two  for  him  to  sharpen  his  teeth  on. 

These  boys  told  me  a  number  of  stories  in  con- 
nection with  the  survivors  they  had  rescued,  or 
failed  to  rescue,  from  ships  sunk  by  U-boats.  Most 
of  them  were  the  usual  accounts  of  firing  on  open 
boats  in  an  attempt  to  sink  without  a  trace,  but 
there  was  one  piquant  recital  which  revealed  the 
always  diverting  Hun  sense  of  humour  at  a  new 
slant.  This  was  displayed,  as  it  chanced,  on  the 
occasion  of  the  sinking  of  "  Ole's  ''  ship,  the  Norwe- 
gian barque.  After  this  unlucky  craft  had  been  put 
down  by  shell-fire  and  bombs,  the  U-boat  ran  along- 


90 


SEA-HOUNDS 


side  the  whaler  containing  the  captain  and  mate, 
and  they  were  ordered  aboard  to  be  interrogated. 
Under  the  pretence  of  preventing  any  attempt  to 
escape  on  the  part  of  the  remainder  of  those  in 
this  boat,  the  Germans  made  them  clamber  up  and 
stand  on  the  narrow  steel  run-way  which  serves  as 
the  upper  deck  of  a  submarine.  No  sooner  were 
they  here,  however,  than  the  Hun  humorist  on  the 
bridge  began  slowly  submerging.  When  the  water 
was  lapping  round  the  necks  of  the  unfortunate 
Norwegians,  and  just  threatening  to  engulf  them, 
the  nose  of  the  U-boat  was  slanted  up  again,  this 
finely  finessed  operation  being  repeated  during  all 
of  the  time  that  the  captain  and  mate  were  being 
pumped  below  by  the  commander  of  the  submarine. 
No  great  harm — save  that  one  of  the  sailors,  losing 
his  nerve  when  the  U-boat  started  down  the  first 
time,  dived  over,  struck  his  head  on  one  of  the  bow- 
rudders  and  was  drowned — was  done  by  this  little 
pleasantry,  but  it  is  so  illuminative  of  what  the 
Hun  is  in  his  lightsome  moods  that  I  have  thought 
it  worth  setting  down. 

The  American  is  more  violent  in  his  feelings  than 
the  Briton,  and  much  more  inclined  to  say  what  he 
thinks;  and  I  found  these  boys — to  use  the  ex- 
pressive phrase  of  one  of  them — "mad  clean 
through  "  at  the  Hun  pirate  and  all  he  stands  for. 
America — with  more  time  to  do  that  sort  of  thing 
— has  undoubtedly  gone  farther  than  any  other 
country  in  the  war  in  trying  to  give  her  soldiers 


ili 


KAMERADING       WITH    FPLIFTED    PAWS 


HELPING   THE    COOK    TO    PEEL    POTATOES 


HUNTING 

and  sailors  a  proper  idea  of  the  beast  they  have 
been  sent  out  to  slay.  These  lessons  seem  to  have 
sunk  home  with  all  of  them,  and  when  it  has  been 
supplemented — as  in  the  case  of  the  sailors  in  the 
destroyers — by  the  first-hand  teachings  of  the  Huns 
themselves,  it  generally  leaves  a  man  in  something 
like  the  proper  state  of  mind  for  the  task  in  hand. 
Not  that  I  really  think  any  of  the  Americans,  when 
they  have  the  chance,  as  happens  every  now  and 
then,  will  carry  out  all  the  little  plans  they  claim  to 
be  maturing,  but — well,  if  I  was  an  exponent  of  the 
U-boat  branch  of  German  kultur,  and  my  untersee- 
boot  was  depth-charged  by  a  British  and  an  Ameri- 
can destroyer,  and  I  came  sputtering  up  to  the  sur- 
face midway  between  them,  I  don't  think  I  would 
strike  out  for  the  lifebuoy  trailing  over  the  quarter 
of  the  one  flying  the  Stars  and  Stripes.  I  may  be 
wrong,  but  somehow  I  have  the  feeling  that  the 
Briton — be  he  soldier,  sailor,  or  civilian — hasn't 
quite  the  same  capacity  as  the  Yank  for  keeping  up 
the  temperature  of  his  passion,  for  feeling  "  mad 
clean  through." 

Joining  another  group  bunched  in  the  lee  of  a 
tier  of  meat-safes,  I  chanced  upon  a  debate  which 
threw  an  illuminative  beam  on  the  feelings  of  what 
might  once  have  been  classified  as  hyphenated 
Americans.  At  first  the  whole  six  or  eight  of  them, 
in  all  harmony  and  unanimity,  had  been  engaged 
in  cursing  Sinn  Feiners,  with  whom  it  appeared 
they  had  been  having  considerable  contact — phy- 


92  SEA-HOUNDS 

sical  and  otherwise — in  the  course  of  the  last  few 
months.  Then  one  of  the  more  rabid  of  them  on 
this  particular  subject — he  and  one  of  his  mates 
had  been  waylaid  and  beaten  by  a  dozen  hulking 
young  Irishmen  who  resented  the  attentions  the 
Yankees  were  receiving  from  the  local  girls — threw 
a  bone  of  dissension  into  the  ring  by  declaring  that 
a  Sinn  Feiner  was  as  bad  as  a  Hun  and  ought  to 
be  treated  the  same  way. 

The  most  of  them  could  hardly  bring  themselves 
to  agree  to  this,  but  in  the  rather  mixed  argument 
which  followed  it  transpired  that  the  lad  who  had 
led  the  attack  on  Sinn  Fein  was  named  Morarity 
and  had  been  born  in  Cork,  and  that  the  one  who 
maintained  that  nothing  on  two  legs,  not  even  a 
Sinn  Feiner,  was  as  "  ornery  as  a  Hun,"  was 
named  Steinholz,  and  had  been  born  in  St.  Louis 
of  German  parents. 

The  wherefore  of  this  they  explained  to  me 
severally  presently,  when  it  turned  out  that  their 
views; — as  regards  their  duties  as  Americans — were 
precisely  similar.  Like  all  good  Yankees,  they  said, 
they  had  it  in  for  both  the  Hun  and  the  Sinn 
Feiner;  but,  because  each  of  them  had  a  name  to 
live  down,  he  felt  it  incumbent  on  himself  to  out- 
strafe  his  mates  in  the  direction  from  which  that 
name  came.  It  was  a  bit  nai've,  that  confession,  but 
at  the  same  time  highly  instructive;  and  I  wouldn't 
care  to  be  the  Hun  or  Sinn  Feiner  that  either  of 
those  ex-hyphenates  had  a  fair  chance  at. 


HUNTING 


93 


A*  very  domestic  little  party  I  found  cuddled  up 
aft  among  the  depth-charges.  One  lad — he  had  been 
a  freshman  at  Cornell,  I  learned  later,  and  would 
not  wait  to  train  for  a  commission,  so  keen  had  he 
been  to  get  into  the  war — was  just  back  from  a 
week's  leave  in  London,  and  was  telling  about  it 
with  much  circumstance.  There  were  many  things 
that  had  interested  and  amused  him,  but  the  great 
experience  had  been  three  days  spent  as  a  guest  in 
an  English  home  at  Wimbledon.  The  head  of  the 
family,  it  appeared,  was  some  kind  of  a  City  man, 
and,  encountering  the  doubtless  aimlessly  wander- 
ing Yank  at  Waterloo,  had  forthwith  carried  him 
home.  Everything  had  bristled  with  interest  for 
the  young  visitor,  from  the  marmalade  at  breakfast 
and  the  port  at  dinner  to  croquet  on  the  lawn  and 
a  punt  on  the  Thames  at  Richmond.  But  the  best 
of  it  all  had  been  that  he  had  brought  a  standing 
invitation  from  the  same  family  to  any  of  his  mates 
who  might  be  coming  up  to  London  while  the  war 
was  on.  During  the  refit,  which  was  supposed  to 
be  imminent,  two  of  these,  who  had  plumped  for 
the  great  London  adventure,  had  screwed  up  their 
courage  to  following  up  the  invitation  to  the  hos- 
pitable home  in  question.  Out  of  his  broader  ex- 
perience, their  worldly  mate  was  tipping  them  off 
against  possible  breakers.  This  is  the  only  one  I 
remember:  "You'll  find,"  he  said,  gesturing  with 
an  admonitory  finger  that  could  just  be  dimly 
guessed  against  the  phosphorescence  of  the  tossing 


94  SEA-HOUNDS 

wake,  "  that  they  don't  seem  to  have  any  great 
grudge  'gainst  us  for  licking  them  and  going  on  our 
own  in  '76;  but  go  easy  on  rubbing  it  in  just  the 
same,  'cause  you're  a  guest  in  the  house.  Best  for- 
get the  Revolution  while  you're  over  here.  That 
scrap  was  more'n  a  hundred  years  ago,  and  we've 
got  another  on  now.  Half  the  people  you  meet 
here  never  heard  of  it,  anyhow,  and  when  you  men- 
tion it  to  them  they  think  you  refer  to  another 
Revolution  in  France  which  came  off  about  the 
same  time." 

It  was  at  about  this  juncture  that  a  change  of 
course  brought  seas  which  had  been  quartering  a 
couple  of  points  forward  of  the  beam,  and  in  a 
jiffy  the  swift  spurts  of  brine  had  searched  out  the 
last  dry  corner  of  the  deck  and  sent  scurrying  to 
shelter  every  man  who  had  not  a  watch  to  stand. 
Three  times  I  was  completely  drenched  in  groping 
forward  from  the  after-superstructure  to  the  ward- 
room, under  the  bridge,  so  that  I  was  a  good  deal 
inclined  to  take  it  as  a  joke — and  a  rather  ill-timed 
one  at  that — when  an  ensign  about  to  turn  in  on 
one  of  the  transoms  muttered  something  about 
being  thankful  that  we  were  going  to  have  one 
quiet  night  when  a  man  could  snatch  a  wink  of 
sleep.  I  asked  him  if  he  referred  to  the  night  we 
expected  to  be  in  port  waiting  for  the  Lymptania, 
but  the  fact  that  he  had  already  dozed  off  proved 
that  he  really  had  not  been  trying  to  be  funny  at 
my  expense.  Indeed,  it  was  a  fairly  quiet  night,  as 


HUNTING 


95 


nights  go  in  destroyers;  but,  even  so,  I  needed  a 
good  high  sideboard  to  keep  from  rolling  out  of 
the  captain's  bunk,  and  then  two  sofa  pillows  and 
my  overcoat  to  keep  from  pulping  my  shoulder 
against  the  sideboard. 

We  were  still  sliding  easily  along  at  the  same 
comfortable  umpteen  knots  in  the  morning,  but 
with  the  breaking  of  the  new  day  a  subtle  change 
had  come  over  the  spirit  of  the  ship.  It  was  just 
such  a  change  as  one  might  observe  in  a  hunter  as 
he  passes  from  a  plain,  where  there  is  little  cover, 
to  a  wood  where  every  tree  and  bush  may  hide 
potential  quarry.  And  that,  indeed,  was  precisely 
the  way  it  was  with  us.  The  night  before  we  were 
"  on  our  way  " ;  this  morning  we  were  ploughing 
waters  where  U-boats  were  known  to  be  operating. 
It  was  only  a  couple  of  days  previously  that  the 
good  old  Carpathia  had  been  put  down,  and  not 
many  hours  had  passed  since  then  but  what  brought 
word,  by  one  or  another  of  the  almost  countless 
ways  that  have  been  devised  to  trace  them,  of  an 
enemy  submarine  working  in  those  waters.  We 
were  ready  enough  the  night  before,  ready  for  any- 
thing that  might  have  turned  up;  but  this  morning 
we  were  more  than  that. 

There  was  a  new  tenseness  now,  and  a  feeling  in 
the  air  like  that  which  follows  the  click-click  after 
a  trigger  is  set  to  "  hair."  It  was  as  though  every- 
one, everything,  even  the  good  little  Zip  herself, 
was  crouched  for  a  spring. 


96 


SEA-HOUNDS 


There  was  an  amusing  little  incident  I  chanced 
to  see  which  illustrates  the  keenness  of  the  spirit 
animating  the  men  even  in  the  moments  of  waiting. 
A  favourable  course  had  left  the  deck  unswept  by 
water  for  an  hour,  and  a  half-dozen  boys,  off  watch, 
but  too  restless  to  turn  in,  were  trying  to  kill  time 
by  helping  the  cook  peel  potatoes.  It  was  one  of 
these  whom  I  saw  stand  up,  take  several  swift 
strides  forward  across  the  reeling  deck,  draw  a  rag 
from  the  pocket  of  his  "  jeans,"  and  then,  with  great 
care  and  deliberation,  begin  to  polish  a  patch  of 
steel  plate  that  was  exposed  in  the  angle  of  two 
strips  of  coco-matting.  "  Wha'  cher  holystoning 
deck  yeta while  fer,  Pete?  v  one  of  his  mates  shouted. 
"  Can'cher  wait  till  we  gets  back  to  port?  We  may 
have  to  foul  your  pretty  work  with  greasy  Huns 
any  minnit."  Unperturbed,  Pete  went  right  on 
rubbing,  testing  the  footing  every  now  and  then 
with  the  sole  of  his  boot.  Only  when  the  job,  what- 
ever it  was,  was  done  to  suit  his  fastidious  taste 
did  he  return  to  his  seat  on  the  reversed  water- 
bucket  and  start  peeling  potatoes  again.  Not  till 
a  full  dozen  or  more  neatly  skinned  Murphies  had 
passed  under  his  knife  did  he  vouchsafe  to  reply  to 
the  half-curious,  half-pitying  looks  and  remarks 
his  mates  had  continued  to  direct  at  him.  Then 
his  explanation  was  as  crushing  as  complete. 

"  It  don't  look  much  as  if  you  guys  wants  to  get 
a  Hun,"  he  observed  finally,  running  a  critical  eye 
over  them.  "Oh,  you  do,  do  you?  My  mistake. 


HUNTING 


97 


Well,  then,  don't  try  to  be  funny  with  another  guy 
that's  doing  his  best  to  effect  that  same  good  end. 
Now  looka  here.  From  where  I  sits  to  my  gun- 
station  is  just  six  steps.  Six  for  me,  I  mean;  it'd 
be  more  for  most  of  you  '  shorties.'  Now  I  just 
figures  that  step  number  four  lands  my  foot  square 
in  the  dribble  of  oil  on  that  patch  where  there  ain't 
no  matting;  so  what  was  more  natural  than  for 
me  to  go  and  swab  it  up.  Last  time  the  gong 
binged  I  hit  half  a  preserved  peach,  and  sprained 
a  wrist  and  ankle  so  bad  that  I  woulda  been  dead 
slow  on  the  gun  if  we'd  had  to  fire  it.  Keeping  my 
eye  peeled  for  another  piece  of  peach,  I  pipes  that 
gob  of  oil,  and  so  goes  and  gets  rid  of  it.  It's  pain- 
ful having  to  explain  a  simple  thing  like  that  to 
you  bone-heads,  but,  now  that  you  got  it,  p'raps 
you'll  ease  off  on  your  beefing,  and  peel  spuds. 
That  don't  take  no  brains." 

Two  or  three  times  in  the  course  of  the  morning 
the  look-out's  shout  of  "  Sail!  "  bearing  this  way  or 
that,  brought  those  in  sound  of  it  to  their  feet  in  the 
expectation  that  it  would  be  followed  by  the  wel- 
come clanging  of  the  alarm  bell;  and  once  or  twice 
the  wireless  picked  up  the  S.O.S. — they  do  not 
send  it  out  that  way  now,  but  these  letters  are  still 
the  common  term  in  use  to  describe  the  call  of  a 
ship  in  distress — of  a  steamer  that  had  been  tor- 
pedoed. But  the  sails  turned  out  to  be  friends  in 
every  case,  while  both  of  the  ships  reported  sinking 
were  too  far  away  for  us  to  be  of  any  use  to  them. 


98 


SEA-HOUNDS 


Early  in  the  afternoon  a  suspiciously  cruising 
craft,  which  proved  presently  to  be  a  friend,  got  a 
high-explosive  shell  under  her  nose  as  a  conse- 
quence of  her  deliberation  in  revealing  that  fact. 
The  smartness  with  which  the  men  tumbled  to 
quarters,  and  the  almost  uncanny  speed  with  which 
the  forecastle  gun  was  served,  boded  well  for  de- 
velopments in  case  the  real  thing  turned  up. 

"  Do  you  always  fire  a  blank  across  their  bows 
when  you  don't  quite  like  the  look  of  'em?"  I 
asked  the  captain  innocently,  as  he  gazed  dejectedly 
through  his  glass  at  certain  unmistakable  evidences 
proving  that  he  had  been  cheated  of  his  quarry. 
"Blank!  "  indignation  and  half  the  look  that  sits 
on  the  face  of  a  terrier  who  discovers  that  he  has 
cornered  his  own  family's  "  Tabby  "  instead  of  the 
neighbour's  "Tom";  "blank! — did  you  ever  see  a 
blank  '  X-point-X '  that  threw  up  a  spout  as  high 
as  a  masthead,  and  all  black  with  smoke?  That 
was  the  worst  punisher  we  have  in  our  lockers; 
and,  what's  more,  it  was  meant  to  be  a  hit.  And  the 
next  one  would  have  been,"  he  added.  "  You  can't 
afford  to  waste  any  time  where  five  or  ten  seconds 
may  make  all  the  difference  between  bagging  and 
losing  a  Hun." 

"  But  how  about  bagging  something  that  isn't 
a  Hun?"  I  protested.  "  I  told  you,  I  think,  that 
I  had  arranged  to  go  out  next  week  on  patrol  in 
one  of  the  American  submarines;  but  after  what 
I've  just  seen " 


HUNTING 


99 


"  The  burden  of  proof  is  up  to  the  craft  under 
suspicion,"  cut  in  the  captain,  "  and  they  ought  to 
have  no  trouble  in  supplying  it  if  they  have  their 
wits  about  them."  Then,  with  a  grin,  "  But  if 
you're  really  going  out  on  submarine  patrol  next 
week,  why — I'll  promise  to  look  twice  before  turn- 
ing loose  one  of  those — those  '  blanks.' '  How  he 
kept  his  word  is  another  story. 

It  was  about  an  hour  or  two  later  that  the  wire- 
less winged  word  that  seemed  at  last  to  herald  the 
real  thing.  It  was  the  S.O.S.  of  a  steamer,  and 
conveyed  merely  the  information  that  she  had  just 
been  torpedoed,  with  her  latitude  and  longitude. 
The  position  given  was  only  thirty  or  forty  miles 
to  the  northward,  and  though  the  name  in  the  mes- 
sage— it  was  Namoura  or  something  similar — 
could  not  be  found  on  any  of  our  shipping  lists, 
the  Zop,  as  senior  ship,  promptly  ordered  course 
altered  and  full  speed  made  in  the  hope  of  arriving 
on  the  scene  in  time  to  be  of  some  use.  With  every 
minute  likely  to  be  of  crucial  importance,  it  was 
not  an  occasion  to  waste  time  by  waiting  or  asking 
for  orders.  A  swift  exchange  of  signals  between 
ships,  a  hurried  order  or  two  down  a  voice-pipe,  an 
advancing  of  the  handle  of  the  engine-room  tele- 
graph, a  throwing  over  of  the  wheel,  and  we  had 
spun  in  the  welter  of  our  tossing  wake  and  were 
off  on  a  mission  that  might  prove  one  of  either 
mercy  or  destruction,  or,  quite  conceivably,  both. 
The  formation  in  which  we  had  been  cruising  when 


100 


SEA-HOUNDS 


the  signal  was  received  gave  the  Zip  something  like 
a  mile  lead  at  the  get-away,  and  this — though  one 
of  the  others  was  a  newer  and  slightly  faster  ship 
— she  held  gallantly  to  the  end  of  the  race.  By  a 
lucky  chance,  though  there  was  a  snoring  wind  and 
a  lumpy  sea  running,  the  course  brought  both  abaft 
the  beam  and  permitted  us  to  run  nearly  "  all  out  " 
without  imposing  a  serious  strain  on  the  ship.  The 
difference  between  running  before  and  bucking  into 
seas  of  this  kind  I  was  to  learn  in  a  day  or  two. 
For  the  moment,  conditions  were  all  that  could  be 
asked  to  favour  our  getting  with  all  dispatch  into 
whatever  game  there  was  to  be  played. 

Many  a  so-called  express  train  has  travelled 
slower  than  any  one  of  those  three  destroyers  was 
ploughing  its  way  through  solid  green  wrater.  For 
a  few  seconds  after  "  Full  speed !  "  had  been  rung 
down  to  their  engine-rooms,  swift-spinning  smoke 
rings  had  shot  up  from  their  funnels  and  gone 
reeling  off  down  to  leeward;  then,  with  perfect 
synchronisation  of  draught  and  oil,  the  duskiness 
above  the  mouths  of  the  stumpy  stacks  had  cleared, 
and  only  the  mirage  on  the  horizon  astern  betrayed 
the  up-spouting  jets  of  hot  gases.  Only  the  vibrant 
throb  of  the  speeding  engines — so  pervading  that 
it  seemed  to  pulse  like  heart-beats  through  the 
very  steel  itself — gave  hint  of  the  mightiness  of  the 
effort  that  speed  was  costing.  With  that  throb 
stilled — and  the  mounting  wake  quenched — the  pro- 
gress of  that  thousand  tons  or  so  of  steam-driven 


HUNTING  101 

steel  would  have  seemed  scarcely  less  effortless  than 
that  of  an  aeroplane. 

An  order  irom  the  Commander-in-Chief — which 
was  picked  np  presently — to  go  to  the  assistance  of 
the  torpedoed  ship  and  to  "  hunt  submarine  "  had 
been  anticipated;  but  the  real  name  of  the  steamer 
— finally  transmitted  correctly — brought  to  me  at 
least  a  distinct  shock.  It  was  H.M.S.  Marmora, 
and  the  Marmora,  the  former  P.  &  O.  Australian 
liner,  was  an  old  friend.  To  anyone  who  loves  the 
sea  a  ship,  no  matter  of  what  kind,  has  a  person- 
ality. But  in  the  case  of  a  ship  in  which  he  has 
sailed — lived  in,  worked  and  played  in,  been  happy 
in,  perhaps  gone  through  certain  dangers  in — has 
more  than  a  personality,  it  has  a  place  in  his  heart. 
Many  and  many  a  morning  since  the  first  U-boat 
campaign  was  started  I  had  read — and  never  with- 
out a  lump  rising  in  my  throat — of  the  passing  of 
just  such  a  friend,  of  the  going  out  of  the  world  of 
something — almost  of  "  some  one  • ' — which  I  had 
always  looked  forward  to  seeing  again.  Afric, 
Arabic,  Aragon,  I  knew  their  names  well  enough  to 
compile  the  list  alphabetically.  It  would  have  run 
to  some  score  in  length,  and  from  every  name  would 
have  led  a  long  train  of  treasured  memories.  But 
the  blow  had  never  come  quite  this  way  before, 
never  fallen  quite  so  near  at  home.  An  especially 
dear  friend  had  just  been  stricken  less  than  a  de- 
gree of  latitude  away;  byt  the  poignancy  of  that 
realisation  was  tempered  by  the  thought  that  I  was 


102 


SEA-HOUNDS 


in  a  ship  rushing  to  her  assistance,  a  ship  that 
could  be  as  swift  to  succour  as  to  avenge. 

I  must  confess  to  a  queerly  mixed  state  of  mind 
that  next  half-hour.  Consumed  as  I  was  with  in- 
terest in  our  terribly  purposeful  progress  leading 
up  to  the  entrance  into  that  grim  drama  approach- 
ing its  climacteric  act  just  beyond  the  sky-line, 
there  were  also  vivid  flare-backs  of  memory  to  the 
days  of  my  friendship  with  the  Marmora,  arresting 
flashlights  of  the  swift  refreshing  morning  dive 
into  the  canvas  pool  on  her  forecastle,  of  lounging 
chairs  ranged  in  long  rows  •  twixt  snowy  decks  and 
awnings,  of  a  phosphorescent  bow-wave  curling 
back  and  blotting  the  reflections  of  stars  in  a 
tropical  sea.  There  was  a  picture  of  the  clean 
sweet  lines  of  her  as — buff,  black,  and  beautiful — 
she  lay  at  the  north  end  of  the  horseshoe  of  the 
Circular  Quay  at  Sydney,  with  a  rakish  Mes- 
sageries  liner  moored  astern  of  her  and  a  bluff 
Norddeutscher  Lloyd  packet  ahead.  It  was  her 
maiden  voyage,  and  Australia,  which  had  never 
seen  so  swift  and  luxurious  a  liner  before,  was  re- 
ceiving her  like  a  newly  arrived  prima  donna.  I 
took  passage  in  her  back  as  far  as  Colombo.  That 
fortnight's  voyage  had  been  diverting  in  a  number 
of  ways,  I  recalled,  but  most  of  all,  perhaps,  as  a 
consequence  of  the  throwing  together  of  a  large 
party  of  Wesleyan  missionaries  from  Fiji  and  the 
members  of  a  London  musical  comedy  company 
returning  from  its  Australian  "  triumphs."  I  was 


HUNTING 


103 


just  beginning  to  chuckle  inwardly  at  the  recollec- 
tion of  what  one  of  the  missionary  ladies  had  said 
to  a  buxom  chorus-girl  who  tripped  out  to  the 
fancy  dress  cricket-match  in  her  pink  tights  and  a 
ballet  skirt,  when  the  ting-a-ling  of  a  bell  brought 
the  captain  to  the  radio-room  voice-pipe.  "  Message 
just  received,"  I  heard  him  repeat.  "  All  right, 
Send  it  up/ *  He  slapped  down  the  voice-pipe  cover, 
and  a  messenger  had  handed  him  the  signal  before 
he  had  paced  twice  across  the  bridge. 

"Marmora  just  sunk,"  he  read;  "survivors 
picked  up  by  P.B.'s  X  and  Y." 

The  sinking  made  no  immediate  change  in  our 
plans.  There  was  still  a  chance  we  might  be  of  use 
with  the  survivors,  and  also  the  matter  of  the  U- 
boat  to  be  looked  after.  With  no  abatement  of 
speed,  all  three  destroyers  drove  on.  The  navigat- 
ing officer  reckoned  that  in  another  fifteen  minutes 
we  should  be  sighting  the  rescuing  craft,  and 
probably  wreckage;  but  when  twice  that  time  still 
left  a  clear  horizon  ahead,  it  began  to  appear  as 
though  there  had  been  a  mistake  of  some  kind. 
And  so  there  had,  but  it  was  a  lucky  mistake  for 
us.  It  was  some  time  later  before  they  figured  just 
how  it  had  chanced,  but  what  had  happened  was 
this.  The  Marmora's  last  despairing  call — doubt- 
less sent  out  by  a  breaking-down  radio — gave  her 
position  as  some  ten  or  twelve  miles  out  from  what 
it  really  was.  The  consequence  was  that,  heading 
somewhat  wide  of  the  sinking  ship,  to  which,  how- 


104 


SEA-HOUNDS 


ever,  on  account  of  the  presence  of  the  patrol  boats, 
which  had  evidently  been  close  enough  to  come  to 
her  immediate  assistance,  we  could  have  been  of 
small  use,  we  had  steered  directly  for  the  one  point 
where  it  was  most  desirable  we  should  make  our 
appearance  at  that  psychological  moment :  for  the 
point,  in  short,  at  which  the  coolly  calculative 
skipper  of  the  U-boat  responsible  for  the  outrage, 
after  running  submerged  for  an  hour  or  more  and 
doubtless  figuring  he  had  come  sufficiently  far 
from  the  madding  crowd  that  would  throng  the 
immediate  vicinity  of  the  wreckage  to  be  at  peace, 
had  come  up  to  smoke  his  evening  pipe  and  cogitate 
upon  the  Freedom  of  the  Seas. 

It  was  just  as  it  began  to  become  apparent  that 
we  were  badly  adrift  as  regards  the  point  where 
the  Marmora  had  gone  down  that  a  whine  from  the 
lookout's  voice-pipe  reported  to  the  bridge  that  it 
had  sighted  a  "  sail — port,  ten." 

"What  is  it?"  asked  back  the  captain. 

"  Looks  like  submarine,"  came  the  reply ;  and  with 
one  quick  movement  the  captain  had  started  the 
alarm-bell  sounding  "  General  quarters !  "  in  every 
part  of  the  ship.  With  every  man  knowing  pre- 
cisely what  he  had  to  do,  and  how  to  do  it,  there 
was  incredible  speed  without  confusion.  Tumbling 
to  their  stations  like  hounds  on  a  hot  scent,  they 
yet  managed  to  avoid  getting  in  each  other's  way, 
even  in  the  narrow  passages  and  on  the  ladders.  The 


HUNTING 


105 


loom  of  the  conning-tower  was  plain  to  the  naked 
eye,  now  that  one  knew  where  to  look  for  it,  but 
only  for  a  few  minutes.  Even  as  a  swiftly  passed 
shell  was  thrown  into  the  open  breech  of  the  fore- 
castle gun,  came  the  look-out's  whine  through  the 
voice-pipe,  "  She's  going  down,  sir ;  she's  gone !  " 
The  breech  of  the  gun  spun  shut,  but  the  eye  of  the 
sightsetter  groped  along  an  empty  horizon. 

"  Never  mind,'1  muttered  the  captain  grimly. 
"  Couldn't  have  croaked  him  with  one  shot  any- 
how. Got  something  better'n  shells  for  him.  Now 
for  it,"  and  his  hand  went  back  to  pull  the  wire  of 
a  gong  which  gave  certain  orders  to  the  men  stand- 
ing-by  with  the  depth-charges.  That,  a  word  down 
the  engine-room  voice-pipe,  and  a  fraction  of  a 
point's  alteration  in  the  course — and  there  was  only 
one  thing  left  to  be  done.  The  time  for  that  had 
not  quite  arrived. 

Because  a  destroyer's  engine-room  telegraph-hand 
points  to  "Full  speed!"  it  does  not  necessarily 
mean  that  there  are  not  ways  of  forcing  more  revo- 
lutions from  the  engines,  of  driving  her  still  faster 
through  the  water  should  the  need  arise.  Such  a 
need  now  confronted  the  Zip,  and,  like  the  thor- 
oughbred she  was,  her  response  was  instant  and 
generous.  The  pulsing  throb  of  her  quickened  till 
it  was  almost  a  hum ;  the  quivering  insistency  of  it 
struck  straight  to  the  marrow  of  the  bones, 
drummed  in  the  depths  of  one's  innermost  being. 


106 


SEA-HOUNDS 


If  there  is  anything  to  stir  the  blood  of  a  man  like 
a  destroyer  beginning  to  see  red  and  go  Berserk, 
I  have  yet  to  encounter  it. 

There  must  have  been  something  like  three  miles 
to  go  from  the  point  where  the  U-boat  had  been 
sighted  to  the  point  where  the  inevitable  patch  of 
grease  would  mark  the  place  where  it  had  sub- 
merged, and  rather  less  than  twice  that  many 
minutes  had  elapsed  when  the  cry  of  "  Oil  slick- 
starboard  bow !  "  came  almost  simultaneously  from 
the  look-outs  in  the  foretop  and  on  the  bridge. 
Over  went  the  helm  a  spoke  or  two,  and  the  execu- 
tive officer,  in  his  hand  a  thin  piece  of  board  with  a 
table  of  figures  pasted  on  it,  moved  up  beside  the 
captain.  Straight  down  the  wobbly  track  of  irides- 
cent film  drove  the  Zip,  and  when  a  certain  length 
of  it  had  been  put  astern,  the  captain  turned  and 
drew  a  lever  to  him  with  a  sharp  pull. 

Three,  four  seconds  passed,  and  then,  simul- 
taneously with  a  heavy  knocking  thud,  a  round 
patch  of  water  a  hundred  yards  or  so  astern  quiv- 
ered and  fizzed  up  sharply  like  the  surface  of  a 
glass  of  whisky-and-soda  after  the  siphon  has 
ceased  to  play  on  it.  Following  that  by  a  second  or 
two,  a  smooth  rounded  geyser  of  foam  boiled  up  a 
dozen  feet  or  so,  and  then  gradually  subsided. 
That  one,  plainly,  was  a  deep-set  charge,  whose  force 
was  expended  far  beneath  the  surface.  A  second 
one  threw  a  geyser  twice  as  high  as  the  first,  and  a 
third,  which  fizzed  and  spouted  almost  simultan- 


HUNTING 


107 


eously,  blotted  out  a  great  patch  of  sternward  sky 
with  its  smoke-shot  eruption. 

Presently  the  Zop  "  struck  oil,"  and  then  the  Zap, 
Soon  the  muffled  booms  of  their  rapidly  scuttled 
depth-charges  began  to  drum,  while  astern  of  them 
the  foam-spouts  nicked  the  sky-line  like  a  stubby 
picket  fence. 

Perhaps  the  lad  whom  I  later  overheard  de- 
scribing that  bombardment  by  saying  that  "  'tween 
the  three  of  us,  we  was  scattering  '  cans '  like  rice 
at  a  wedding  "  was  guilty  of  some  exaggeration ; 
but  it  is  a  fact  that  they  were  spilling  over  very 
fast  and,  there  is  little  doubt,  with  telling  effect. 
The  savageness  of  the  bolts  of  wrath  released  by 
the  exploding  charges  was  strikingly  disclosed  when 
two  of  them  chanced  to  be  dropped  at  nearly  the 
same  time  by  destroyers  a  mile  or  more  apart,  when 
the  under-sea  "  jolts "  would  meet  half-way  and 
form  weird  evanescent  "  rips  "  of  dancing  froth 
strongly  suggestive  of  chain-lightning.  The  way  in 
which  even  the  most  distant  of  the  detonations 
made  a  destroyer  "  bump  the  bumps/'  quite  as 
though  it  was  striking  a  series  of  solid  obstructions, 
gave  some  hints  of  the  bolts  that  were  descending 
upon  the  lurking  pirate. 

At  the  end  of  a  minute  or  two  a  quick  order  from 
the  captain  sent  the  wheel  spinning  over,  and,  with 
raucous  grinding  of  helm,  round  we  swung  through 
sixteen  points  to  head  back  in  reverse  over  the  path 
of  destruction  we  had  just  traversed.  Just  as  the 


108 


SEA-HOUNDS 


steel  runners  of  a  racing  skater  throw  ice  when  he 
makes  a  sudden  turn,  so  the  screws  of  a  speeding 
destroyer  hurl  water.  The  stern  sank  deep  into 
the  propeller-scooped  void,  so  that  the  high-tossed 
side-slipping  wake  buried  it  beneath  a  frothing 
flood.  Through  several  long  seconds  I  saw  the 
water  boiling  above  the  waists  of  the  men  at  the 
depth-charges,  without  appearing  to  disturb  them 
in  the  least;  then  the  wheel  was  spun  back  'mid- 
ships— and  a  spoke  or  two  beyond  to  meet  and 
steady  her — the  bow  wave  resumed  its  curled 
symmetry  and  the  wake  began  trailing  off  astern 
again. 

It  was  into  a  peaceful  sea,  indolently  rolling, 
sunset  tinged  and  slightly  sleeked*  with  a  thin 
streak  of  oil,  that  we  had  raced  five  minutes  before ; 
it  was  a  troubled  sea,  charge-churned  and  wave- 
slashed,  that  we  now  nosed  back  into  to  see  what 
good  our  coming  had  wrought.  The  grey-blue-black 
of  the  long  oil  wake  had  been  scattered  into  broken 
patches  by  the  explosions.  Most  of  these  were  pale, 
sickly,  and  highly  anremic  in  colour,  and  of  scant 
promise;  but  for  one,  where  fresh  oil  rising  spread 
rainbow-bright  upon  the  surface,  the  Zip  headed 
full  tilt.  The  explosion  here  appeared  to  have  been 
an  unusually  heavy  one,  for  the  sea  was  dotted  with 
the  white  bellies  of  stunned  fish,  most  of  them  float- 
ing high  out  of  the  water,  with  trickles  of  blood 
running  from  their  upturned  mouths  and  distended 


HUNTING 


109 


gills.  A  six  or  eight-foot  shark,  wriggling  drunk- 
en ly  along  the  surface  with  a  broken  back,  was 
hailed  with  a  howl  of  delight  by  the  men,  who 
claimed  to  see  in  the  fact  that  the  unlucky  monster 
could  not  submerge  his  telltale  dorsal,  a  sign  that 
their  Fritz  might  be  in  the  same  difficulty. 

Another  "  can  "  or  two  was  let  go  as  we  dashed 
through  that  iridescent  "  fount  of  promise  " ;  and 
when  we  turned  back  to  it  again  the  wounded  shark 
had  ceased  to  wriggle  and  now  floated  inertly 
among  his  hapless  brothers.  But  of  Fritz — save' 
for  a  glad  new  gush  of  oil — no  sign.  Prisoners  or 
wreckage  are  rated  as  the  only  indubitable  evidence 
of  the  destruction  of  a  U-boat,  and  neither  of  these 
were  we  able  to  woo  to  the  surface  in  that  busy  hour 
which  elapsed  before  the  descending  pall  of  dark- 
ness put  a  period  to  our  well-meant  efforts.  Dur- 
ing that  time  not  the  most  delicate  instrument  de- 
vised by  science  for  that  purpose  revealed  any 
indication  of  life  or  movement  in  the  depths  below. 
As  the  water  at  this  point  was  far  too  deep  to  allow 
a  submarine  to  descend  and  lie  on  the  bottom  with- 
out being  crushed,  this  fact  appeared  morally  con- 
clusive. It  was  this  I  had  in  mind  when  I  tried  to 
draw  the  captain  out  on  the  subject.  "  Of  course 
there's  no -doubt  we  bagged  him?  "  I  hazarded,  in 
a  quiet  interval  when  we  were  watchfully  waiting 
for  something  to  turn  up,  or  rather  come  up.  He 
smiled  a  rather  tired  smile.  "  Oh,  very  likely  we 


110  SEA-HOUNDS 

have/'  he  replied.  "  But,  unluckily,  there's  noth- 
ing we  can  lay  our  hands  on  to  carry  away  and 
prove  it.  In  case  this  particular  Fritz  doesn't  come 
to  life  and  sink  another  ship  in  the  course  of  the 
next  few  days,  there  is  just  a  chance  that  we  may 
be  credited  with  a  '  Possible.'  They  never  err  on 
the  optimistic  side  in  sizing  up  a  little  brush  of 
this  kind,  and  perhaps  it's  just  as  well.  Anyhow, 
a  game  like  this  is  worth  playing  on  its  own 
account,  whether  you  come  in  with  a  scalp  at  your 
belt  every  time  or  not." 

It  was  just  a«  darkness  was  slowing  down  our 
anti-U-boat  operations,  that  a  signal  came  through 
stating  that  there  were  believed  to  be  several  sur- 
vivors still  alive  among  the  wreckage  of  the  Mar- 
mora, and  ordering  us  to  proceed  to  the  scene  of 
her  sinking  with  all  dispatch.  The  moon  was  ris- 
ing as  we  began  to  nose  among  the  pathetic  litter 
of  scraps  that  was  all  that  remained  afloat  of  what, 
five  or  six  hours  previously,  had  been  a  swift  and 
beautiful  auxiliary  cruiser. 

There  was  enough  light  for  us  to  be  reasonably 
sure,  at  the  end  of  an  hour's  search,  that  our  mis- 
sion was  in  vain ;  that  there  remained  no  living  man 
to  pick  up.  There  was  something  strangely 
familiar,  though,  in  the  lines  of  a  cutter  which,  in 
spite  of  a  smashed  gunwale,  was  still  afloat,  and  I 
was  just  thinking  of  how  grateful  a  lee,  in  the  mon- 
soon, the  windward  side  of  the  old  Marmora's  life- 
boats had  furnished  for  a  deck-chair  or  two,  when 


HUNTING 


111 


the  captain,  advancing  the  handle  of  the  engine- 
room  telegraph,  turned  to  me  with :  "  We're  off  to 
rendezvous  with  the  Lymptania  now;  I  think  we 
can  promise  you  some  real  excitement  in  the  course 
of  the  next  day  or  two." 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  CONVOY   GAME 

THE  fantastic  pile  of  multi-coloured  slabs  blot- 
ting out  a  broken  patch  of  sky  above  the  sea- 
ward end  of  the  estuary,  if  it  had  been  on 
land,  might  have  been  anything  from  a  row  of 
hangars,  viewed  in  slant  perspective,  to  the  scaffold- 
ing of  a  scenic  railway,  or  a  "  Goblin's  Castle  "  in 
Luna  Park.  But  there  in  the  middle  of  the  chan- 
nel, the  mountainous  bulk  could  only  be  one  thing, 
the  Lymptania,  the  ship  which  our  division  of 
American  destroyers  had  been  ordered  to  escort  on 
that  part  of  its  westbound  voyage  in  which  there 
was  reckoned  to  be  danger  of  submarine  attack. 
Distorted  by  the  camouflage,  the  tumbled  mass  of 
jumbled  colours  continued  to  loom  in  jagged  in- 
definitiveness  as  we  closed  it  from  astern,  and  it 
was  only  when  we  had  come  up  well  abreast  of  it 
that  the  parts  settled  down  into  "ship-shapeli- 
ness," and  the  silhouette  of  perhaps  the  most 
famous  of  the  world's  great  steamers  sharpened 
against  the  sunlit  afternoon  clouds. 

The  change  which  had  been  wrought  in  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  Lymptania  since  last  I  had  seen 
her  was  almost  beyond  belief.  Then  she  had  been 


THE  CONVOY  GAME 


113 


a  hospital  ship,  with  everything  about  her,  from 
snowy  whiteness  to  red  crosses  in  paint  and  col- 
oured lights,  calculated  to  establish  her  character, 
to  give  her  the  protection  of  conspicuousness.  Now 
she  sought  protection  in  quite  the  opposite  way. 
Every  trick  of  scientific  camouflage  had  been  em- 
ployed to  render  her  inconspicuous;  while,  if  that 
failed,  there  were  the  destroyers.  The  protection 
of  these  big  liners  is  a  considerable  undertaking, 
but  it  has  its  redeeming  features.  As  U-boat  bait 
they  are  unrivalled,  and  the  number  of  German 
submarines  which  have  been  sent  to  the  bottom  as 
a  direct  consequence  of  attempting  to  sink  one  of 
them  will  make  a  long  and  interesting  list  when  the 
time  comes  to  publish  it. 

There  was  something  almost  awesome  in  the 
emptiness  of  the  great  ship,  in  the  lifelessness  of 
the  decks,  in  the  miles  of  blinded  ports.  The  heads 
of  a  few  sailors  "  snugging  down  "  on  the  fore- 
castle, a  knot  of  officers  at  the  end  of  the  bridge, 
and  two  stewardesses  in  white  uniforms  leaning 
over  the  rail  of  one  of  the  upper  decks — that  was  all 
there  was  visible  of  human  life  on  a  ship  which  a 
few  days  before  had  been  packed  to  the  funnels 
with  its  thousands  of  American  soldiers.  A  lanky 
destroyer  gunner  lounging  by  a  ladder,  described 
her  exactly  when  he  said  to  one  of  his  mates :  "  Gee, 
but  ain't  she  the  lonesome  one!  " 

The  captain  of  the  Zip  turned  his  glasses  back 
to  cover  the  little  group  of  officers  on  the  liner's 


114 


SEA-HOUNDS 


bridge.  "  There's  the  skipper,"  he  said  presently. 
"  I  only  hope  he's  well  ahead  of  the  game  on  the 
sleeps,  for  I  wouldn't  mind  betting  that  he  won't 
be  leaving  that  bridge  for  a  cup  of  coffee  for  some 
time.  It's  going  to  be  an  anxious  interval  for  him 
—very  anxious.  It's  quite  beyond  calculation,  the 
value  to  the  Allies  at  this  moment  of  a  ship  of  the 
size  and  speed  of  the  Lymptania,  and  her  skipper 
must  know  from  what  has  happened  the  last  week, 
that  the  Huns  are  all  out  to  bag  her  this  time,  and 
he  can  hardly  be  able  to  extract  any  too  much  com- 
fort out  of  the  fact  that  it's  about  a  hundred  to  one 
that  we'll  bag  the  Fritz  that  tries  it — either  before 
or  after  the  event.  Yes,  it  will  be  an  anxious  time 
for  him — but,"  a  grimly  wry  smile  coming  to  his 
face  as  he  turned  his  eyes  to  the  opening  seaward 
horizon,  "  even  so,  it'll  be  nothing  to  the  time  we're 
in  for  in  the  Zip  and  all  the  rest  of  the  escort.  He'll 
be  able  to  sleep  if  he  happens  to  take  a  notion  to ; 
we  won't,  at  least,  not  during  the  time  we've  got 
her  to  shepherd.  Again,  he's  only  got  the  chance 
of  being  hit  by  a  torpedo  to  worry  about;  we've 
got  the  certainty  of  being  hit  by  head-seas  that  have 
as  much  kick  in  them  to  a  driven  destroyer  as  a 
tin-fish  full  of  gun-cotton.  Unless  the  weather  gets 
either  a  good  deal  better  or  a  shade  worse,  we're 
sure  up  against  the  real  thing  this  time. 

"  The  fact  is,"  continued  the  captain,  taking  up 
the  slack  in  the  hood  of  his  weather-proof  jacket  as 
a  slight  alteration  of  course  brought  a  new  slant 


THE  CONVOY  GAME 


115 


of  wind;  "the  fact  is,  I'd  much  rather  see  it  get 
worse  than  better.  If  it  would  only  kick  up  enough 
sea  so  that  there  was  no  chance  of  a  submarine 
operating  in  it,  she  could  drive  right  along  on  her 
own  without  any  need  of  destroyers.  But  so  long 
as  we've  this  weather  there's  a  possibility  of  a  tor- 
pedo running  in,  we've  got  to  hang  on  to  the  last 
shiver,  and  there  are  two  or  three  things  which  are 
going  to  make  *  hanging  on '  this  particular  trip 
just  a  few  degrees  worse  than  anything  we've 
stacked  up  against  before.  This  is  about  the  way 
things  stand:  The  Lymptania's  best  protection  is 
her  speed;  but  while  she  is  just  about  the  fastest 
of  the  big  ships,  she  is  also  just  about  the  biggest 
of  the  fast  ships.  This  means  that  the  size  of  the 
target  she  presents  goes  a  long  way  toward  off- 
setting the  advantage  of  her  speed;  so  that  the 
presence  of  destroyers — in  any  kind  of  weather  a 
submarine  can  work  in — is  very  desirable,  and  may 
be  vital. 

"  Now  the  escorting  of  any  steamer  that  makes 
over  twenty  knots  an  hour  is  a  lively  piece  of  busi- 
ness, no  matter  what  the  weather,  for  destroyers, 
to  screen  most  effectively,  should  zigzag  a  good 
deal  more  sharply  than  their  convoy,  and  that,  of 
course,  calls  for  several  knots  more  speed.  This 
can  be  managed  all  right  in  fair  weather,  or  even 
in  rough,  where  there  is  only  a  following  or  a  beam 
sea;  but  where  the  seas  come  banging  down  from 
more  than  a  point  or  two  for'ard  of  the  beam  it  is 


116 


SEA-HOUNDS 


quite  a  different  matter.  In  that  event,  the  speed 
of  the  whole  procession  depends  entirely  on  how 
much  the  destroyers  can  stand  without  being  re- 
duced to  scrap-iron.  Naturally,  the  ship  under 
escort  endeavours  to  make  her  speed  conform  to  the 
best  the  destroyers  can  do  under  the  circumstances ; 
but  since  an  extra  knot  or  two  an  hour  might  well 
make  all  the  difference  in  avoiding  a  submarine 
attack,  the  tendency  always  is  to  keep  the  escorting 
craft  extended  to  just  about  their  limit  of  en- 
durance. 

"  Just  how  the  mean  will  be  struck  between  what 
a  fast  steamer  thinks  its  escorting  destroyers  ought 
to  stand,  and  what  the  destroyers  really  can  stand, 
depends  upon  several  things.  Perhaps  the  prin- 
cipal factor  is  the  state  of  mind  of  the  skipper  of 
the  steamer,  and  that,  in  turn,  is  influenced  by  the 
value  of  his  ship — both  actual  and  potential — and 
the  danger  of  submarine  attack  at  that  particular 
time  in  the  waters  under  traverse.  When  the  de- 
stroyers set  out  to  escort  a  very  fast  and  valuable 
ship,  steering  into  heavy  head  seas  in  waters  where 
there  are  known  to  be  a  number  of  U-boats  operat- 
ing, they've  got  the  whole  combination  working 
against  them,  and  the  result  is — just  what  you're 
slated  to  see  this  trip.  Best  take  a  good  look  at  the 
Zip  while  you've  got  a  chance ;  she  may  be  quite  a 
bit  altered  by  the  time  we  get  back  to  port  again. 
And  you  might  take  a  squint  at  the  Flossie  over 
there,  too.  She's  our  latest  and  swiftest,  the 


THE  CONVOY  GAME 


117 


Fotilla's  pride.  But  this  is  her  first  experience  of 
taking  out  an  ex-ocean  greyhound,  and  if,  in  a 
burst  of  fresh  enthusiasm,  she  chances  to  tap  any 
of  these  several  extra  knots  of  speed  she  is  sup- 
posed to  have — well,  the  Flossie's  sky-line  in  that 
case  will  be  modified  more  than  those  of  all  the 
rest  of  her  older  and  wiser  sisters  put  together." 

Those  were  prophetic  words. 

"  The  one  thing  that  makes  it  certain  that  we'll 
be  put  to  the  limit  to-night,"  resumed  the  captain, 
after  he  had  rung  up  more  speed  on  our  coming  out 
into  opener  water,  "  is  the  news  in  this  morning's 
official  announcement  of  the  sinking  of  the  Justicia. 
We  seem  just  to  have  struck  the  peak  of  the  mid- 
summer U-boat  campaign.  It  was  scarcely  a  week 
ago  that  they  got  the  Carpathian.  Then,  a  few 
days  later,  came  the  Marmora  (you  won't  forget 
for  a  while  the  strafe  we  had  at  the  U-boat  which 
put  her  down),  and  now  it's  the  Justicia,  the  big- 
gest ship  they've  sunk  in  a  year  or  so.  That's  the 
thing  that  must  be  worrying  the  skipper  of  the 
Lymptania,  for  it  shows  they're  after  the  great 
troop-carriers.  The  way  they  stuck  to  the  Justicia 
proves  they're  not  yet  beyond  taking  some  risk  if 
the  stake  is  high  enough.  Now  and  then  some 
Fritz  is  found  desperate  enough  to  commit  hari- 
kari  by  coming  up  close  (if  the  chance  offers)  and 
making  sure  of  getting  his  torpedo  home.  He  gets 
what's  coming  to  him,  of  course,  but  there  is  also 
a  fair  chance  of  his  getting  the  ship  he  is  after ;  and 


118 


SEA-HOUNDS 


a  fast  liner  for  a  U-boat  is  a  poor  exchange — from 
our  standpoint.  Naturally,  these  things  all  make 
the  skipper  of  the  Lymptania  anxious  to  minimise 
his  risks  by  hitting  up  just  as  hot  a  pace  as  he  can, 
and  that,  with  her  size  and  her  power,  will  be  just 
about  full  speed.  I  can't  tell  you  to  a  knot  how  fast 
that  is,  but  I  can  tell  you  this :  if  you  were  on  the 
bridge  of  a  destroyer  going  at  that  speed  when  it 
hit  a  good  heavy  head-sea,  the  only  thing  that  would 
tell  you  it  wasn't  a  brick  wall  she  had  collided  with 
would  be  the  sort  of  moist  feeling  about  the  pile- 
driver  that  knocked  you  over  the  side.  So  it  looks 
like  the  rub  is  going  to  come  in  getting  the  Lymp- 
tania to  content  herself  with  a  speed  at  which— 
well,  at  which  you  can  detect  some  slight  difference 
between  a  head-sea  and  a  brick  wall  from  the  bridge 
of  the  destroyer  doing  the  butting.  Whatever  that 
proves  to  be,  you'll  have  such  a  chance  as  you  may 
never  get  again  to  see  what  stuff  your  Uncle  Sam's 
destroyers  are  made  of.'' 

We  made  screening  formation  as  soon  as  we  were 
well  clear  of  the  barraged  waters  of  the  estuary, 
though  the  sea  we  had  to  traverse  before  enter- 
ing the  open  Atlantic  was  considered  practically 
empty  of  menace.  The  Lymptania,  making  aston- 
ishingly little  smoke  for  a  coal-burner,  worked  up 
to  somewhere  near  her  top  speed  in  a  very  short 
time;  but,  with  the  light-running  seas  well  abaft 
the  beam,  the  destroyers  cut  their  zigzags  round 
and  about  her  with  many  knots  in  reserve.  The  big 


THE  CONVOY  GAME 


119 


liner,  with  much  experience  to  her  credit,  knew 
precisely  what  to  do  and  how  to  do  it,  and  the 
whole  machine  of  the  convoy  worked  as  though 
pulled  by  a  single  string.  Her  very  movements 
themselves  seemed  to  give  the  various  units  of  the 
escort  their  cues,  for,  though  she  steered  a  course 
so  devious  and  irregular  that  no  submarine  could 
have  possibly  told  how  to  head  in  order  to  waylay 
her,  she  was  never  "  uncovered."  Ahead  and 
abreast  of  her,  going  their  own  way  individually, 
but  still  conforming  their  general  movements  to 
hers,  the  destroyers  wove  their  practically  impen- 
etrable screen. 

Whatever  there  was  ahead,  it  was  ideal  destroyer 
weather  for  the  moment,  and  all  hands  came 
swarming  out  on  the  dry  sun- warmed  deck  to  make 
the  most  of  it  while  it  lasted.  An  importunate 
whine  from  a  nest  of  arms  and  legs  sprawling 
abreast  the  midships  torpedo-tubes  attracted  my 
attention  for  a  moment  as  I  sauntered  aft  to  see 
what  was  afoot,  and  presently  the  rattle  of  dice  on 
the  deck  and  an  imploring  "  Come  on,  you  Seven !  " 
told  me  they  were  "  shooting  Craps,"  with,  I 
shortly  discovered,  bars  of  milk  chocolate  and 
sticks  of  chewing-gum  for  stakes.  Several  others 
were  playing  "  High,  Low,  Jack,"  and  here  and 
there — using  elbows  and  knees  to  keep  the  bellying 
pages  from  blowing  away — were  little  knots  clus- 
tered about  the  latest  Sunday  Supplement  from 
New  York. 


120 


SEA-HOUNDS 


But  quite  the  best  thing  of  all  was  two  brown- 
armed  youngsters  going  through  a  proper  battery 
warming-up  with  a  real  baseball.  I  had  seen  enthu- 
siasts on  two  or  three  of  the  American  units  with 
the  Grand  Fleet  playing  catch  right  up  to  the 
moment  "  General  Quarters  "  was  sounded  for  tar- 
get, practice;  but  that  was  on  the  broad  decks  of 
battleships,  with  some  chance  of  saving  a  ball  that 
chanced  to  be  muffed.  But  here  the  pitcher  had  to 
wind-up  with  a  sort  of  a  corkscrew  stoop  to  keep 
from  hitting  his  hand  against  a  stay,  while  the 
catcher  braced  himself  with  one  foot  against  a 
depth-charge  and  the  other  against  the  mounting 
of  the  after-gun.  There  were  four  or  five  things 
that  the  ball  had  to  clear  by  less  than  a  foot  in  its 
flight  from  one  to  the  other,  but  the  only  ones  of 
these  I  recall  now  are  a  searchlight  diaphragm  and 
a  gong  which  sounded  from  the  bridge  a  standby 
signal  to  the  men  at  the  depth-charges,  I  actually 
saw  that  skilfully  directed  spheroid  make  two  com- 
plete round-trips,  from  the  pitcher  to  the  catcher 
and  back,  before  it  struck  the  gong  a  resonant  bing! 
caromed  against  the  side  of  an  out-slung  boat  and 
disappeared  into  the  froth  of  the  wake. 

The  pitcher  and  catcher  were  in  a  hot  argument 
as  to  whether  that  was  the  twenty-sixth  or  the 
twenty-seventh  ball  they  had  lost  overboard  since 
the  first  of  the  month,  but  they  fell  quiet  and 
turned  sympathetic  ears  to  my  description  of  a  net 


THE  CONVOY  GAME 


121 


I  had  seen  rigged  on  one  of  the  American  battle- 
ships to  prevent  that  very  trouble. 

"  Nifty  enough,"  was  the  pitcher's  comment  when 
I  had  finished  describing  how  the  net  was  drawn 
taut  right  under  the  stern  to  prevent  all  leakage. 
"  Only  thing  is,  the  captain  might  rule  it  off  on  the 
score  that  it'd  catch  the  '  cans '  we  was  trying  to 
drop  on  Fritz  as  well  as  the  '  wild  pitches.'  Might 
do  for  harbour  use,  though.  Lost  balls  is  a  con- 
siderable drain  even  there/' 

It  was  just  before  dinner-time  that  the  lengthen- 
ing life  of  the  seas  gave  warning  that  we  were  com- 
ing out  into  the  Atlantic.  The  force  of  them  was 
still  abaft  the  beam,  however,  and  their  principal 
effect  was  to  add  a  few  degrees  of  roll,  with  an 
occasional  deluge  dashing  in  admonitory  flood 
across  the  decks.  But  it  was  enough  to  make  the 
Ward  Room  untenable,  so  that  dinner  had  to  be 
wolfed  propped  up  on  the  transoms,  one  nicely  bal- 
anced dish  at  a  time.  There  would  be  about  an 
hour  more  of  this  comparative  comfort,  the  captain 
said,  before  we  reached  a  position  where  the  full 
force  of  the  seas  would  be  felt,  but  things  would  not 
really  "begin  to  drop  "  till  the  Lymptania  altered 
course  and  headed  westerly.  "If  you  have  any 
writing,  reading,  sleeping,  or  anything  except  just 
existing  to  do,"  he  warned,  as  he  kept  his  soup  from 
overflowing  by  an  undulant  gesture  of  the  hand 
which  poised  it,  "  better  do  it  now.  It's  your  last 
chance." 


122 


SEA-HOUNDS 


The  forty  winks  I  managed  to  snatch  as  a  result 
of  following  up  the  sleeping  part  of  that  recom- 
mendation stood  me  in  good  stead  in  the  times 
ahead.  It  took  no  little  composing  to  doze  off  even 
as  it  was,  and  it  was  the  sharp  bang  my  head  got 
from  the  siderail  of  my  bunk  that  put  a  period  to 
the  nap  I  did  get.  The  rolling  had  increased  enorm- 
ously, and  though  it  was  apparent  we  were  not  yet 
bucking  into  it,  the  swishing  of  the  water  on  the 
forecastle  overhead  indicated  that  there  had  been 
enough  alteration  of  course  to  bring  the  seas — on 
one  leg  of  the  zigzags  at  least — well  forward  of  the 
beam.  I  climbed  out,  pulled  on  my  weather-proof 
suit  and  sea-boots,  and  clambered  up  to  the  bridge. 

There  were  still  a  couple  of  hours  to  go  before 
dark,  and  in  the  diffused  light  of  a  bright  bank  of 
sunset  clouds  the  gay  dazzle  colours  of  all  the  ships 
showed  up  brilliantly  as  they  ploughed  the  white- 
cap-plumed  surface  of  a  sea  which  now  stretched 
unbrokenly  to  the  westward  horizon.  There  was  a 
world  of  power  behind  the  belligerent  bulk  of  swells 
which  had  been  gathering  force  under  the  urge  of  a 
west-nor'-west  wind  that  had  chased  them  all  the 
way  from  Labrador,  and  the  destroyers,  teetering 
quarteringly  along  their  foam-crested  tops,  were 
rolling  drunkenly  and  yawing  viciously  ahead  of 
jagged  wakes. 

Still  driving  on  at  express  speed,  however,  they 
continued  to  maintain  perfect  formation  on  the 
swiftly  steaming  Lymptania.  The  latter,  appar- 


THE  CONVOY  GAME 


123 


ently  as  steady  as  though  "  chocked  up  "  in  a  dry- 
dock,  drove  serenely  on  in  great  swinging 
zigzags. 

The  captain  came  up  from  the  chart-room  and 
took  a  long  look  around.  "  It's  just  about  as  I  ex- 
pected," he  said,  shaking  his  head  dubiously.  "  It 
isn't  so  rough  but  what  a  submarine  might  stage  an 
attack  if  her  skipper  had  the  nerve ;  and  it's  a  darn 
sight  too  rough  for  destroyers  to  screen  the  Lymp- 
tania  with  her  holding  to  anything  like  full  speed. 
It's  all  up  now  to  what  speed  she  will  try  to  hold 
us  to.'' 

"  But  what's  the  matter  with  this?  "  I  protested. 
"  We're  still  hitting  the  high  places  for  speed,  and, 
while  I  wouldn't  call  this  exactly  comfortable,  we 
still  seem  to  be  making  pretty  good  weather  of  it/" 

The  captain  smiled  indulgently.  "  You're  right," 
he  said,  "  as  far  as  you  go.  We  are  indeed  hitting 
the  high  places,  but — the  high  places  haven't 
started  hitting  us  yet.  Wait  just  about  five  or  ten 
minutes,"  he  added,  turning  his  glasses  to  where 
the  great  liner,  silhouetted  for  the  moment  against 
the  sunset  clouds,  ploughed  along  on  our  port  beam, 
"and  you'll  see  the  difference.  Ah!"  this  as  he 
steadied  his  glasses  on  where  the  boiling  wake  of 
the  Lymptania,  beginning  to  bend  away  in  a  sharp 
curve  indicating  a  considerable  alteration  of  course. 
"  There  she  goes  now.  Hold  tight !  " 

With  his  hand  on  the  engine-room  telegraph,  the 
captain  gave  the  men  at  the  wheel  a  course  to  con- 


124 


SEA-HOUNDS 


form  to  that  of  the  Lymptama.  Quick  as  a  cat  on 
her  helm,  the  Zip  swung  swiftly  through  eight 
points  and  plunged  ahead.  This  brought  on  her 
bows  seas  that  had  been  rolling  up  abeam,  and  we 
were  up  against  the  real  thing  at  last. 

The  first  sea,  which  she  caught  while  she  was 
still  turning,  the  Zip  contented  herself  with  slicing 
off  the  truculently-tossing  top  of  before  crunching 
it  underfoot.  It  wras  a  smartly-executed  perform- 
ance, and  seemed  to  promise  encouragingly  as  to 
the  way  she  might  be  expected  to  dispose  of  the 
next  ones.  The  second  in  line,  however,  which  she 
met  head-on  and  essayed  the  same  tactics  with, 
dampened  her  ardour — and  just  about  everything 
and  everybody  else  below  the  foretop — by  detaching 
a  few  tons  of  its  bumptious  bulk  and  raking  her 
fore-and-aft  with  its  rumbling  green-white  flood. 
The  bridge  was  above  the  main  weight  of  that  blow, 
but  'midships  and  aft  I  saw  men  bracing  them- 
selves against  a  knee-deep  stream.  One  bareheaded 
'and  bare-armed  man,  who  had  evidently  been  sur- 
prised in  making  his  wray  from  one  hatch  to 
another,  I  saw  rolled  fifteen  or  twenty  feet  and 
slammed  up  against  the  torpedo-tube  which  pre- 
vented his  going  overboard.  He  limped  out  of 
sight,  rubbing  his  shoulder,  and  probably  never 
knew  how  lucky  he  was  in  being  caught  by  that 
wave  instead  of  one  which  came  along  a  minute 
later. 

The  slams  which  she  received  from  the  next  two 


THE  CONVOY  GAME 


125 


or  three  seas  left  the  Zip  in  a  somewhat  chastened 
mood,  and  rather  less  sanguine  respecting  her 
ability  to  go  on  pulling  off  that  little  stunt  of  sur- 
mounting waves  by  biting  them  in  the  neck  and 
then  trampling  their  bodies  under  foot.  She  was 
beginning  to  realise  that  she  had  a  body  of  her 
own,  and  that  there  was  something  else  around  that 
could  bite — yes,  and  kick,  and  gouge,  and  punch 
below  the  belt,  and  do  all  the  other  low-down  tricks 
of  the  underhand  fighter. 

Languid  and  uncertain  of  movement,  like  a  dazed 
prize-fighter,  she  was  just  steadying  herself  from 
the  jolt  a  bustling  brute  of  a  comber  had  dealt  her 
in  passing,  when  the  skyline  ahead  was  blotted  out 
by  the  imminent  green-black  loom  of  a  running  wall 
of  water  which,  from  its  height  and  steepness, 
might  well  have  been  kicked  up  by  a  Valparaiso 
"  Norther ''  or  a  South  Sea  hurricane. 

It  may  have  been  the  chastened  state  of  mind  the 
last  sea  had  left  her  in  which  was  responsible  for 
Zip's  deciding  to  take  this  one  "  lying  down" ;  or 
again,  it  may  be  that  she  was  acting,  in  reverse, 
after  the  example  set  by  the  rabbit  who,  because  he 
couldn't  go  under  the  hill,  went  over  it.  At  any 
rate,  after  one  shuddering  look  at  the  mountainous 
menace  tottering  above  her  bows,  she  made  up  her 
mind  that  she  was  better  off  under  the  sea  than  on 
the  surface,  and  deliberately  dived.  Of  course,  it 
was  the  Parthian  kick  the  last  sea  had  given  her 
stern  that  was  really  responsible  for  her  bows 


126 


SEA-HOUNDS 


starting  to  go  down  at  the  very  instant  those  of 
every  other  ship  that  one  had  had  experience  of 
would  have  been  beginning  to  point  skyward,  but 
to  all  intents  and  purposes  she  looked,  from  the 
bridge,  to  be  submerging  of  her  own  free  and  con- 
sidered decision.  The  principal  thing  which 
differentiated  it  from  the  ordinary  dive  of  a  sub- 
marine was  the  fact  that  it  was  made  at  a  sharper 
angle  and  at  about  four  times  the  speed. 

There  was  something  almost  uncanny  in  the 
quietness  with  which  that  plunge  began ;  though,  on 
the  latter  score,  there  was  nothing  to  complain  of 
by  about  half  a  second  later.  I  have  seen  at  one 
time  or  another  almost  every  conceivable  kind  of 
craft,  from  a  Fijian  war  canoe  to  the  latest  battle- 
cruiser,  trying  to  buck  head  seas,  and  invariably 
the  wave  that  swept  it  had  the  decency  to  an- 
nounce its  coming  by  a  warning  knock  on  the 
bows.  This  time  there  was  nothing  of  the  kind. 
The  retreating  sea  had  lifted  her  stern  so  high  that 
the  forecastle  was  under  water  even  before  the  com- 
ing one  had  begun  to  topple  over  on  to  it.  The 
consequence  was  that  there  was  no  preliminary 
bang  to  herald  the  onrush  of  the  latter. 

The  base  of  the  mountainous  roller  simply 
flooded  up  over  the  diving  forecastle  and  crashed 
with  unbroken  force  against  the  bridge.  We  had 
collided  with  the  "  brick  wall "  right  enough,  and 
for  the  next  few  seconds  at  least  the  result  was 
primal  chaos. 


THE  CONVOY  GAME 


127 


I  have  a  vivid  but  detached  recollection  of  two 
or  three  things  in  the  instant  that  the  blow  im- 
pended. One  is  of  the  helmsman,  crouching  low, 
with  legs  wide  apart,  locking  his  arms  through  the 
slender  steel  spokes  of  the  wheel  the  better  to 
steady  her  in  the  coming  smash.  Another  is  of  the 
captain,  with  hunched  shoulders  and  set  jaw,  throw- 
ing over  the  telegraph  to  stop  the  engines.  But 
the  clearest  picture  of  all  is  of  the  submarine  look- 
out on  the  port  side — a  black-eyed,  black-haired  boy 
with  a  profile  that  might  have  been  copied  from  an 
old  Roman  coin — who  was  leaning  out  and  grinning 
sardonically  into  the  very  teeth  of  the  descending 
hydraulic  ram.  It  was  his  savagely-flung  anatomy, 
I  believe,  though  I  never  made  sure,  which  bumped 
me  in  the  region  of  the  solar  plexus  a  moment  later 
and  broke  my  slipping  hold  on  the  buckling  stan- 
chion to  which  I  was  trying  to  cling. 

There  was  nothing  whatever  suggestive  of  water 
— soft,  fluent,  trickling  water — in  the  first  shatter- 
ing impact  of  that  mighty  blow.  It  was  as  solid 
as  a  collision  between  ship  and  ship;  indeed,  the 
recollection  I  have  of  a  railway  wreck  I  was  once 
in  on  a  line  in  the  Argentine  Pampas  is  of  a  shock 
less  shattering.  It  is  difficult  to  record  events  in 
their  proper  sequence,  partly  because  they  were  all 
happening  at  once,  and  partly  because  the  self- 
centred  frame  of  mind  I  was  in  at  the  moment  was 
not  favourable  for  detached  observation.  The 
noise  and  the  jar  of  the  crash  were  stupendous,  yet 


128 


SEA-HOUNDS 


neither  of  these  has  left  so  vivid  a  mental  impres- 
sion as  the  uncanny  writhing  of  the  two-inches- 
thick  steel  stanchion  to  which  I  was  endeavouring 
to  hold,  and  the  nerve-racking  sound  of  rending 
metal.  I  have  no  recollection  of  hearing  the  clink 
of  broken  glass,  nor  of  being  struck  by  pieces  of 
it;  yet  all  the  panes  of  heavy  plate  which  screened 
the  forward  end  of  the  bridge — of  a  thickness,  one 
had  supposed,  to  withstand  anything  likely  to  assail 
them — were  swept  away  as  though  they  had  been  no 
more  than  the  rice-paper  squares  of  a  Japanese 
window. 

The  rush  of  water,  of  course,  followed  instantly 
upon  the  crash,  yet,  so  vivid  are  my  impressions  of 
the  things  intimately  connected  with  the  blow  itself 
that  it  seems  as  though  there  was  an  appreciable 
interval  between  the  fall  of  that  and  the  time  when 
the  enveloping  cataclysm  transformed  the  universe 
into  a  green-white  stream  of  brine.  From  ahead, 
above  and  from  both  sides  the  flood  poured,  to  meet 
and  mingle  in  a  whirling  maelstrom  in  the  middle 
of  the  bridge.  There  was  nothing  of  blown  spind- 
rift to  it ;  it  was  green  and  solid  and  flowed  with  a 
heave  and  a  hurl  that  made  no  more  of  slamming  a 
man  to  the  deck  than  of  tossing  a  life-buoy.  I  went 
the  whole  length  of  the  bridge  when  I  lost  my  grip 
on  the  port  stanchion,  brought  up  against  the  after- 
rail,  and  then  went  down  into  a  tangle  of  signal 
flags.  I  remember  distinctly,  though,  that  the  walls 
of  water  rushing  by  completely  blotted  out  sea  and 


WHERE     THE     GREAT    LINER    PLOWED    ALONG 


WE    HAD    COLLIDED    WITH    THE        BRICK    WALL 


NOW   SHE    WAS   BACK   AT   BASE 


THE  CONVOY  GAME 


129 


sky  to  port  and  starboard,  and  that  there  was  all 
the  darkness  of  late  twilight  in  the  cavern  of  the 
engulfed  bridge.  Then  the  great  sea  tumbled  aft 
along  the  main  deck,  and  it  grew  light  again. 

The  captain  and  the  helmsman  had  both  kept 
their  feet,  and  the  latter,  dripping  from  head  to 
heel,  was  just  throwing  over  the  engine-room  tele- 
graph as  I  shook  off  my  mantle  of  coloured  bunting 
and  crawled  back  to  my  moorings  at  the  stanchion. 
Immediately  afterwards  I  saw  him  jump  on  to  the 
after-rail  and  make  some  sort  of  negative  signal  to 
a  couple  of  half-drowned  boys  who,  waist-deep  in 
swirling  water,  were  pawing  desperately  among  the 
depth-charges.  Then  he  came  over  and  joined  me 
for  a  few  moments. 

"  Some  sea,  that,"  he  said,  slipping  down  his 
hood  and  throwing  back  the  brine-dripping  hair 
from  his  forehead.  "  It's  happened  before,  but 
never  like  that.  Lord  only  knows  what  it's  done  to 
her.  S'pose  we'll  begin  to  hear  of  that  in  a  minute." 
He  pointed  to  a  string  of  porcelain  insulators 
dangling  at  the  end  of  twisted  bits  of  wire  in  front 
of  one  of  the  paneless  windows.  "  That's  the  re- 
mains of  our  auxiliary  radio,''  he  said,  grinning; 
"  and  look  at  the  foVsle.  Swept  clean,  pretty  near. 
Thank  heaven,  the  gun's  left.  But,  do  you  remem- 
ber that  heavy  iron  bar  the  muzzle  rested  on? 
Gone!  It  was  probably  that,  with  some  of  the 
shells  in  the  rack,  that  made  all  that  rat-a-tat.  But 
what  of  it?  Look  how  she  rides  'em  now  that  she's 


130 


SEA-HOUNDS 


eased  down  a  bit.  Only  trouble  is,  she's  got  to  go 
it  again.  Look  how  we've  dropped  back."  And 
he  gave  the  engine-room,  by  voice-pipe,  a  new 
"  standard "  speed,  and  threw  the  telegraph  over 
to  «  Full." 

The  pulsing  throb  began  anew,  and  under  the 
urge  of  speeding  propellers  the  Zip,  steering  in  nar- 
rowed zig-zags  quickly  regained  her  station.  All  of 
the  destroyers,  and  the  Lymptania  as  well,  had 
eased  down  slightly,  and  the  reduced  speed  meant 
also  a  reduction  of  the  danger  of  another  of  those 
deep-sea  dives,  something  no  craft  but  a  submarine 
is  built  to  stand  the  strain  of.  But  even  as  it  was 
we  were  driving  right  up  to  the  limit  of  endurance 
all  the  time,  and  the  sea  that  did  not  qome  rolling 
up  green  right  over  the  bows  was  the  exception 
rather  than  the  rule.  From  the  forecastle  right 
away  aft  there  was  never  more  than  a  few  seconds 
at  a  time  when  the  main  deck  was  free  of  rollicking 
cascades  of  boiling  brine,  and  there  were  moments 
when  only  the  funnels  and  the  after  superstructure, 
rearing  up  like  isolated  rocks  on  a  storm-beaten 
coast,  were  visible  above  the  swirling  flood.  There 
were  times  when  the  men  standing-by  at  the  guns 
and  torpedo-tubes  seemed  almost  to  be  engulfed; 
yet  none  of  them  was  swept  away,  and  they  even— 
from  the  way  they  kept  joking  each  other  in  the 
lulls — appeared  to  be  getting  a  good  deal  of  sport 
out  of  the  thing. 

The  barometer  was  falling,  and  both  wind  and 


[E  CONVOY  GAME 


131 


waves  gained  steadily  in  force  as  the  afternoon 
lengthened  and  merged  into  a  twilight  that  was 
itself  already  melting  before  the  rising  moon. 
Clouds  were  few  and  scattering,  and  it  was  plain 
there  were  to  be  no  hours  dark  enough  to  offer  any 
protection  from  submarine  attack.  Looming  as 
large  as  ever,  the  big  liner  offered  scarcely  a  better 
target  on  the  side  she  was  illuminated  by  the  moon- 
light than  on  the  one  from  which  she  was  silhou- 
etted against  it.  From  either  side  a  fifth  of  a  mile 
of  steel  would  "take  a  lot  of  missing,"  and  her 
captain,  sensibly  enough,  would  not  ease  his  en- 
gines by  a  revolution  more  than  was  necessary  to 
keep  within  his  destroyer  screen.  It  was  plainly 
up  to  the  destroyers  to  stick  it  to  the  limit,  and 
that  is  just  what  they  did.  As  I  heard  one  of  the 
men  put  it,  it  was  the  "  bruisiest ''  bit  of  escort- 
work  they  had  ever  been — or  probably  ever  will  be 
— called  upon  to  face,  but  every  one  of  those  Yan- 
kee destroyers  stayed  with  it  to  the  finish. 

Now  it  would  be  the  Zop  that  would  emerge 
from  under  a  mountainous  sea  and  come  drifting 
back  without  steerage  weigh,  rolling  drunkenly  in 
the  trough,  and  now  it  would  be  the  Zap.  And 
now  this  or  that  result  of  a  "  hydraulic  ramming  •' 
would  disable  one  of  the  others  temporarily.  But, 
game  to  the  last  flake  of  brine-frosted  camouflage, 
back  they  came  to  it  again,  and  again,  and  yet 
again.  Sunrise  of  the  next  day  found  them  plug- 
ging on  in  station,  and  in  station  they  remained 


132 


SEA-HOUNDS 


until  the  Lymptania,  beyond  the  zone  of  all  pos- 
sible submarine  danger,  made  a  general  signal  of 
"  Thank  you,"  and  headed  off  to  the  westward  on 
her  own. 

Out  of  the  dim  grey  dawn  of  the  morning  after 
the  night  before,  battered  and  buckled,  but  still  un- 
broken, the  wearily  waggling  line  of  the  Lymp- 
tania's  late  escort  trailed  back  into  harbour.  The 
mussed-up  silhouette  of  every  one  of  them  bore 
mute  testimony  to  the  way  she  had  been  put 
"  through  the  mill/'  and,  in  most  cases,  the  things 
that  met  the  eye  were  not  the  worst.  The  Zop 
needed  every  yard  of  the  channel  as  she  zig-zagged 
up  it  under  a  jury  steering-gear,  and  the  Zap,  like 
a  man  dazed  from  a  blow,  would  have  sudden 
"  mental  hiati "  in  which  she  would  straggle  care- 
lessly out  of  line  with  an  inconsequential  going-to- 
pick-flowers-by-the-roadside  sort  of  air.  The  Zim's 
idiosyncrasies  had  more  of  an  epileptic  suddenness 
about  them,  and  her  hectic  coughing  plainly  in- 
dicated some  kind  of  "  lung  trouble."  Our  little 
Zip  presented  a  very  brave  front  to  the  outer  world, 
but  I  heard  hollow  clankings  punctuating  the  erst- 
while even  hum  of  the  engines,  while  the  drip,  drip, 
drip  and  the  drop,  drop,  drop  through  the  crinkled 
sheet-steel  sheathing  of  my  cabin  told  that  the  deck- 
plates  of  the  forecastle  fitted  a  good  deal  less 
snugly  than  before  they  had  played  anvil  to  the 
lusty  head-sea  hammer. 


THE  CONVOY  GAME 

But  the  Flossie,  the  "  latest,  the  swiftest,  the 
flotilla's  pride"— the  wounds  of  all  the  rest  of  us 
put  together  were  as  nothing  to  those  of  the  Flossie. 
In  trying  to  maintain  her  pride  of  place  at  the 
head  of  the  escort,  she  had,  for  a  brief  space,  un- 
leashed those  extra  knots  of  speed  the  captain  had 
spoken  of,  and  all  that,  and  even  more  than,  he 
had  prophesied  had  come  to  pass.  It  was  just  such 
a  swaggerer  of  a  sea  as  that  first  one  that  Zip  had 
dived  into  which  did  the  trick,  only,  as  the  Flossie 
was  going  faster,  the  impact  was  somewhat  more 
severe.  She  was  a  mile  or  more  distant  from  us 
when  it  happened,  and,  watching  from  the  bridge 
of  the  Zip,  we  simply  saw  her  dissolve  into  a  sky- 
tossed  spout  of  foam.  When  she  reappeared  she 
was  floating,  beam-on,  to  the  seas,  and,  for  the 
moment,  an  apparently  helpless  hulk. 

The  captain's  instant  diagnosis  of  a  couple  of 
muffled  detonations  which  followed  was  entirely 
correct. 

"  That  sea  must  have  '  jack-knifed  '  the  Flossie  so 
sharply,"  he  said,  "  that  the  recoil  took  up  the 
slack  in  the  wires,  releasing  two  '  cans '  she  seems 
to  have  had  set  and  ready.  It's  about  the  same 
thing  as  just  happened  to  us,  except  that  the  taut- 
ened wire  only  rang  the  stand-by  bell,  the  signal 
for  the  men  to  set  the  depth-charges.  First  thing 
I  did  after  we  came  to  the  surface  was  to  negative 
that  supposed  order.  That  was  what  I  was  doing 
when  I  waved  to  those  boys  who  were  clawing  at 


134 


SEA-HOUNDS 


the  '  cans,'  with  their  heads  under  water.  Lucky 
they  weren't  carried  away." 

It  was  a  chastened  Flossie  which  had  gone 
floundering  back  to  station  a  few  minutes  later,  but 
somehow  or  other  she  had  managed  to  carry  on,  and 
now  she  was  back  at  Base.  I  won't  "  give  comfort 
to  the  enemy  "  by  trying  to  describe  her  appear- 
ance, but  some  hint  of  it  may  be  gleamed  from  the 
laconic  comment  of  one  of  the  Zip's  signalmen,  as 
the  "  Flotilla's  Pride "  was  warping  in  to  moor 
alongside  the  mother  ship. 

"  Gee  whiz !  "  he  ejaculated.  "  See  the  old  Vin- 
dictive limpin'  home  from  Zeebruggy!  S'pose 
they'll  fill  her  up  with  concrete  now  an'  block  a 
channel." 

The  captain  grinned  as  he  overheard  the  remark 
where  he  waited  by  the  starboard  rail  for  the  last 
of  the  mooring  lines  to  be  made  fast.  "  It's  not 
quite  so  bad  as  that,''  he  said.  "  If  need  be,  they'll 
have  her,  and  all  the  rest  of  us,  right  as  trivets  in 
three  or  four  days,  and  quite  ready  to  take  the  sea 
again  when  our  turn  comes.  It's  all  in  the  convoy 
game,  anyhow,  and  not  such  bad  fun  after  all, 
'specially  when  it's  behind  you,  and  you've  got  a 
bath,  and  a  change,  and  a  lunch  at  the  Club,  and 
an  afternoon  of  tennis  in  immediate  prospect. 
Come  along." 


CHAPTER  VI 


YANK  BOAT  VCTSUS  U-BOAT 

IT  was  the  turn  of  the  tide  and  the  turn  of  the 
day  on  the  "  quiet  waters  of  the  River  Lee.'7 
Pale  blue  columns  of  smoke  rose  above  the 
verdant  boskiness  which  masked  the  squat  brown 
cabins  where  the  peat  fires  smouldered,  and  along 
the  straggling  stone  wall  which  crowned  the  ridge 
the  swaying  heads  of  home-returning  cows  showed 
intermittently  against  the  glowing  western  sky. 
The  peacefulness  of  it  was  almost  palpable.  You 
seemed  to  breathe  it,  and  could  all  but  reach  out 
with  the  hand  and  touch  it. 

It  permeated  even  to  the  long  lines  of  lean  de- 
stroyers  in  the  stream,  and  it  was  the  subtly  sugges- 
tive influence  of  it  which  had  deflected  homeward 
the  minds  of  the  motley-clad  sailors  who  were 
lounging  at  ease  about  the  stern  of  the  first  of  a 
"  cluster  "  of  three  of  these — like  a  sheaf  of  bright 
multi-coloured  arrows  the  trim  craft  looked,  with 
the  level  rays  of  the  setting  sun  striking  across 
them  where  they  lay  moored  alongside  each  other — 
and  set  tongues  wagging  of  the  little  things  which, 
magnified  by  distance,  loom  large  in  the  imagina- 
tions of  men  in  exile, 

135 


136 


SEA-HOUNDS 


They  were  deep  in  the  "  old  home  town  "  stuff 
when  I  sauntered  inconsequently  aft  on  the  off- 
chance  of  picking  up  a  yarn  or  two,  but  as  there  ap- 
peared to  be  no  one  present  froin  my  part  of  the 
country,  no  immediate  opportunity  to  break  in 
presented  itself.  Equally  an  outsider  was  I  when 
the  flow  of  discussion  turned  to  woollen  sweaters 
and  socks  and  mufflers,  and  the  golden"  trails  of 
romance  leading  back  from  the  names  and  messages 
sewed  or  knitted  into  them. 

No  fair  unknowns  had  ever  sent  me  any  of  these 
soft  comforts,  and  after  I  had  heard  a  lusty  young- 
ster from  Virginia  tell  how  a  "sweater  address ''  he 
had  written  what  he  described  as  a  "  lettah  that  was 
good  and  plenty  w'am,  b'lieve  me/'  replied  that  she 
was  "  jest  goin'  twelve  years,"  and  that  her  mother 
didn't  think  she  ought  to  be  thinking  of  marriage 
just  yet —  after  that  I  didn't  feel  quite  so  bad  over 
not  having  had  a  chance  to  open  one  of  these 
"  woolly "  correspondences.  There  was  some 
solace,  too,  in  hearing  a  pink-cheeked  young  ex- 
bank  clerk  tell  how  the  "  abdominal  bandage " 
(they  name  them,  as  a  rule,  after  the  garment  that 
starts  the  correspondence),  with  whom  he  had  ex- 
changed something  like  a  dozen  letters  of  cumula- 
tive passion,  brought  the  affair  to  a  sudden  and 
violent  end  by  some  indirect  and  inadvertent 
admission  which  showed  that  she  remembered  when 
Grant  was  President. 

But  when  the  talk  drifted,  as  it  always  does  in 


YANK  BOAT  VERSUS  U-BOAT        137 

the  end,  to  baseball  and  baseballers,  I  knew  that 
there  was  going  to  be  an  opening  for  me  presently, 
and  stood  by  to  take  advantage  of  it.  A  three- 
year  absentee  from  the  bleachers,  I  was  not  suffi- 
ciently up  on  last  season's  pennant  race  "  dope ''  to 
do  more  than  make  frequent  sapient  observa- 
tions on  this  or  that  big-leaguer's  stickwork  or 
fielding  as  he  was  mentioned;  but  when  they  began 
to  discuss,  or  rather  to  wrangle  over,  for  discuss  is 
far  too  polite  a  term,  the  theory  of  the  game  and  to 
grow  red  in  the  face  over  such  esoterics  (or  "  inside 
stuff,"  to  put  it  in  "Fanese")  as  how  and  when 
a  "  squeeze  "  ought  to  be  pulled  off,  I  showed  them 
the  bulbous  first  joint  of  the  little  finger  of  my 
right  hand — which  there  is  no  other  way  of  acquir- 
ing than  by  the  repeated  telescopings  of  many 
seasons  on  the  diamond — and  was  welcomed  at  last 
on  equal  terms.  A  seat  was  offered  me  on  a  depth- 
charge,  across  the  business  end  of  which  an  empty 
sack  had  been  thrown  to  prevent  a  repetition  of 
what  came  near  happening  the  time  a  stoker,  who 
was  proving  that  Hans  Wagner  could  never  again 
be  a  popular  idol  now  that  we  were  at  war  with  the 
Huns,  punctuated  his  argument  by  hammering  with 
a  monkey-wrench  on  the  firing  mechanism. 

They  were  not  as  impressed  as  they  should  have 
been  when  I  told  them  that  I  learned  the  game 
under  the  tutelage  of  the  mighty  Bill  Lange  (this, 
of  course,  because  the  incomparable  "  Big  Bill " 
was  at  his  zenith  long  before  their  time) ;  but  they 


138 


SEA-HOUNDS 


were  duly  respectful  when  I  said  I  had  played 
three  years'  Varsity  baseball,  and  became  quite 
deferential  when  I  assured  them  I  had  also  survived 
a  season  of  bush-league  in  the  North-West.  There 
was  some  kind  of  electrician  rating  in  the  crowd 
who  had  been  a  bush-league  twirler  before  his 
"  wing  went  glass,"  as  he  put  it,  and  he,  it  soon 
transpired,  had  played  in  one  place  or  another  with 
a  number  of  my  old  team  mates  of  the  Montana 
League.  Deep  in  reminiscence  of  those  good  old 
days,  I  quite  forgot  my  subtle  scheme  of  using  base- 
ball as  a  stalking-horse  for  destroyer  yarns,  when 
the  arrival  of  some  callers  from  a  British  sloop 
lying  a  mile  or  two  farther  down  the  harbour  re- 
called it  to  me.  They  had  been  in  the  Moonfloiver, 
the  man  next  me  said,  when  she  put  a  U-boat  out 
of  business  not  long  before,  and  one  of  them — he 
had  some  sort  of  decoration  for  his  part  in  the 
show —  spun  a  cracking  good  yarn  about  it  if  you 
got  him  started.  This  latter  I  managed  to  do  by 
asking  him  how  it  chanced  that  the  Moonflower 
was  allowed  to  sport  a  star  on  her  funnel.  The 
story  he  told,  the  while  he  rolled  cigarettes  and 
worked  his  jaws  on  Yankee  chewing-gum,  revealed 
rather  too  much  that  may  be  used  in  some  future 
surprise  party  to  make  it  possible  to  publish  just 
yet,  but  it  had  the  desired  effect  of  turning  the  cur- 
rent of  reminiscence  U-boat  ward.  That  was  what 
I  wanted,  for,  now  that  men  from  several  other  de- 
stroyers had  come  aboard  and  sauntered  aft  to  join 


YANK  BOAT  VERSUS  U-BOAT        139 

the  party,  the  opportunity  for  finding  out  at  first- 
hand just  what  the  American  sailors  thought  of 
the  anti-submarine  game  at  the  end  of  a  year  and  a 
half  of  it  was  too  good  to  be  missed. 

There  was  a  considerable  variety  of  opinions  ex- 
pressed in  that  last  hour  of  the  second  dog-watch 
on  the  intricate  inside  stuff  of  the  anti-U-boat  game, 
just  as  there  had  been  about  baseball,  but  there  was 
one  point  on  which  they  were  practically  agreed: 
that  Fritz,  especially  during  the  last  six  months, 
was  not  giving  them  a  proper  run  for  their  money. 
This  is  the  way  one  of  them,  a  bronzed  seaman 
gunner,  with  the  long  gorilla-like  arms  of  a  Sam 
Langford,  and  gnarled  knots  of  protuberant 
muscles  at  the  angles  of  his  jaws,  epitomized  it: 
"  We  sees  Fritzie,  or  we  don't.  Mostly  we  don't, 
for  he  ducks  under  when  he  pipes  our  smoke.  If 
he's  stalkin'  a  convoy  there's  jest  a  chance  of  him 
givin'  us  time  for  a  rangin'  shot  at  him  on  the  sur- 
face. Then  we  waltzes  over  to  his  grease  and  scat- 
ters a  bunch  of '  cans  '  round  his  restin'-place.  An' 
if  the  luck's  with  us,  we  gets  him ;  an'  if  the  luck's 
with  him,  we  don't.  If  we  crack  open  his  shell, 
down  he  goes;  if  we  jest  start  him  leaking  up  he 
comes.  Only  dif  rence  is  that,  in  one  case,  it's  all 
hands  down,  and  in  t'other,  all  hands  up — 
'  Kamerad ! '  In  both  cases,  no  fight,  no  run  for 
our  money.  Now  when  we  first  come  over,  an'  'fore 
we'd  put  the  fear  o'  God  into  Fritzie's  heart,  he 
wasn't  above  takin'  a  chance  at  a  come-back  now  an' 


140  SEA-HOUNDS 

again.  Then  there  was  occas'nal  moments  of 
ple'surabl'  excitement,  like  the  time  when"— and 
he  went  on  to  tell  of  how  an  enterprising  U-boat 
commander  slipped  a  slug  into  the  Courser  abreast 
her  after  superstructure,  and  "  beat  it "  off  before 
that  stricken  destroyer  had  a  chance  to  retaliate. 
Only  the  fact  that,  by  a  miracle,  the  torpedo  failed 
to  detonate  her  depth-charges  saved  the  Courser 
from  destruction,  and  even  as  it  was,  rare  seaman- 
ship had  been  required  to  take  her  back  to  port. 
And  he  also  told  of  the  unlucky  John  Hawkins, 
which  a  U-boat  had  actually  put  down,  and  the 
grim  situation  which  confronted  the  sailors  when 
they  found  themselves  sinking  in  a  ship  which 
carried  a  number  of  depth-charges  set  on  the 
"  ready."  But  all  that,  he  said,  with  the  air  of  an 
old  man  speaking  of  his  departed  youth,  was  be- 
fore they  had  begun  to  learn  Fritzie's  little  ways, 
and  before  Fritz,  perhaps  as  a  consequence,  had 
begun  to  lose  his  nerve.  Now,  far  from  being  will- 
ing to  put  up  a  fight  with  a  destroyer,  it  was  only 
"  onct  in  a  blue  moon  that  he's  got  the  guts  to  put 
up  a  scrap  even  to  save  his  own  hide." 

A  slender  fair-haired  lad,  with  a  quick  observant 
eye  which  revealed  him  as  a  signalman  even  before 
one  looked  at  his  sleeve,  cut  in  sharply  at  this 
juncture. 

"  Then  there  must  have  been  a  blue  moon  shed- 
ding its  light  over  these  waters  last  month,"  he 
said  decisively.  "  I  quite  agree  with  you  that 


YANK  BOAT  VERSUS  U-BOAT        141 

Fritz  hasn't  got  the  nerve — or  it  may  be  because 
he's  got  too  much  sense — to  take  a  chance  at  a  de- 
stroyer any  more.  But  in  the  matter  of  putting  up 
a  fight  for  his  life — yes,  even  for  giving  a  real  run 
for  the  money — well,  all  I  can  say  is  that  if  you'd 
been  out  on  the  Sherill  about  three  weeks  ago,  you 
wouldn't  be  making  that  complaint  about  one 
particular  Fritz  at  least.  If  going  eighteen  hours, 
with  two  or  three  destroyers  and  a  sloop  or  two 
doing  everything  they  know  how  to  crack  in  his 
shell  all  the  time,  without  chucking  his  hand  in, 
and  very  likely  getting  clear  in  the  end — if  that 
isn't  putting  up  a  fight  for  life  and  giving  a  run 
for  the  money,  I  don't  know  what  is." 

I  had  heard  this  astonishing  "  battle  of  wakes 
and  wits,"  as  someone  had  christened  it,  referred 
to  on  several  occasions,  but  had  never  had  the 
chance  to  hear  any  of  the  details  from  one  who  had 
had  anything  like  the  opportunities  always  open 
to  a  signalman  to  follow  what  is  going  on.  "  Most 
of  the  bunch  have  heard  all  they  want  to  hear  of  it 
already,"  the  lad  replied  with  a  laugh  when  I 
asked  him  to  tell  me  the  story;  "and,  besides,  a 
more  or  less  long-winded  yarn  of  the  kind  I  suppose 
you  want  would  tire  'em  to  tears  anyway.  If  you 
really  want  to  hear  something  of  it,  come  over  to 
the  Sherill  (that's  her  stern  there,  just  beyond  the 
Flossie)  any  time  after  eight  bells.  I  go  on  watch 
then,  but  it's  a  'stand  easy '  in  port,  and  there'll 
be  time  for  all  the  yarning  you  want." 


142  SEA-HOUNDS 

I  closed  with  that  offer  at  once,  and  eight  bells 
had  not  long  gone  before  I  had  picked  my  pre- 
carious way  over  to  the  Sherill,  and  climbed  the 
ladders  to  her  snug  little  bridge.  My  man  was 
there  already,  whiling  away  the  time  by  rewriting 
an  old  college  football  song  (he  had  been  in  his 
freshman  year  at  Michigan  when  America  came  into 
the  war)  to  fit  destroyer  work  in  the  North  Atlan- 
tic. I  found  him  stuck  at  the  end  of  the  second 
line  of  the  first  verse,  because  the  only  rhymes  he 
could  think  of  for  flotilla  were  Manila  and  cam- 
arilla, neither  of  which  seemed  sufficiently  opposite 
to  be  of  use,  and  he  was  rather  glad  of  an  excuse  for 
putting  the  job  by  to  await  later  inspiration. 

I  gave  him  a  "  lead  "  for  the  U-boat  yarn  he  had 
lured  me  there  to  hear,  and  he  launched  into  it  at 
once.  This  is  the  story  the  young  signalman  of 
U.S.S.  Sherill  told  me,  the  while  the  red  squares  of 
the  cottagers'  windows  blinked  blandly  along  the 
bank  in  the  lengthening  twilight  and  the  purple 
shadows  of  the  western  hills  piled  deeper  and 
duskier  upon  the  "  quiet  waters  of  the  River  Lee." 

"  We  were  out  on  convoy,''  he  said,  speaking  the 
first  words  slowly  between  the  teeth  which  held  the 
string  of  the  tobacco  sack  from  which  the  gently 
manipulated  paper  in  his  hand  had  been  filled.  "  It 
was  some  kind  of  a  slow  convoy — probably  a  collier 
or  an  oiler  or  two — and  there  were  only  two  of  us 
on  the  job — the  McSmall  and  the  Sherill.  It  was 


YANK  BOAT  VERSUS  U-BOAT        143 

just  the  usual  ding-dong  sort  of  a  drudge  up  to 
about  four  in  the  afternoon  of  the  first  day  out, 
when  the  McSmall  made  a  signal  that  she  had 
sighted  a  submarine  on  the  starboard  bow  of  the 
convoy,  distant  about  five  miles,  and  immediately 
stood  off  to  the  west  to  see  if  anything  like  a  strafe 
could  be  started.  She  was  more  than  hull-down  on 
the  horizon  when  I  saw,  by  the  way  the  angle  of 
her  funnels  was  changing,  that  she  was  manoeuvr- 
ing to  shake  loose  a  few  *  cans '  into  the  oil-slick 
she  had  run  into,  but  I  remember  distinctly  that  I 
felt  the  jolt  of  the  under-water  explosions  stronger 
than  from  many  we  had  kicked  loose  from  the 
Sherill,  and  which  had  detonated  only  a  hundred 
yards  or  so  off.  It's  just  a  little  trick  the  depth- 
charge  has.  The  force  of  it  seems  to  shoot  out  in 
streaks,  just  like  an  explosion  in  the  air,  and  you 
may  feel  It  strong  at  a  distance  and  much  less  at 
fairly  close  range.  So  far  as  we  ever  learned,  this 
opening  salvo  did  not  find  its  target. 

"  Meanwhile  the  Sherill  was  escorting  to  the  best 
of  her  ability  alone.  Or  at  least  we  thought  we 
were  alone.  About  half  an  hour  after  the  McSmall 
had  laid  those  first  'cans,1  however,  one  of  the 
quartermasters  reported  sighting  a  periscope  on 
the  port  quarter  of  the  convoy,  about  five  hundred 
yards  distant,  and  headed  away.  We  signalled  its 
presence  to  the  convoy,  turned  eight  points  to  port, 
and  drove  at  full  speed  for  the  point  where  the  wake 
of  the  moving  finger  had  pinched  out. 


144 


SEA-HOUNDS 


"  We  had  received  a  report  that  morning  to  the 
effect  that  two  submarines  were  operating  in  these 
waters,  and  there  is  just  the  chance,  therefore,  that 
this  was  a  joint  attack.  Everything  considered, 
however,  we  have  been  inclined  to  believe  that  the 
Fritz  we  were  now  starting  to  make  the  acquaint- 
ance of  was  the  same  one  which  the  McSmall  was 
still  assiduously  hunting  some  miles  off  to  the  west- 
ward. It  was  a  mighty  smart  piece  of  *  Pussy- 
wants-a-corner  '  work,  shifting  his  position  like 
that  under  the  circumstances;  but  it  was  quite 
possible  if  the  Fritz  only  had  the  guts  for  it,  and 
that  I  think  you'll  have  to  admit  this  particular 
one  had. 

"  It's  seconds  that  count  in  a  destroyer  attack  on 
a  U-boat,  and  the  captain  hadn't  lost  a  tick  in 
jumping  into  this  one.  The  dissolving  '  V '  which 
the  ducked-in  periscope  had  left  behind  it  was  still 
visible  in  the  smooth  water  when  the  SheriU's  fore- 
foot slashed  into  it,  and  it  was  only  a  few  hundred 
yards  beyond  that  a  slow  undulant  upcoiling  of 
currents  marked,  faintly  but  unmistakably,  the 
under-water  progress  of  the  game  we  were  after. 
There  was  no  oil-slick,  understand,  because  an 
uninjured  submarine  only  leaves  that  behind — 
except  through  carelessness — when  it  dives  after 
a  spell  on  the  surface  running  under  engines.  Then 
the  exhausts  cough  up  a  lot  of  grease  and  oil,  and 
a  layer  of  this,  sticking  to  the  stern,  leaves  a  trail 
that  rises  for  some  little  time  after  submergence, 


YANK  BOAT  VERSUS  U-BOAT 


and  which  almost  any  kind  of  a  dub  who  has  been 
told  what  to  look  for  can  follow. 

"  The  spotting  of  the  surface  wake  of  a  deep-down 
submarine,  and  the  holding  of  it  after  it  almost 
disappears  with  the  slowing  down  of  the  screws  that 
make  it,  is  quite  another  thing.  That  takes  a  man 
with  more  than  a  keen  eye — it  takes  instinct,  mixed 
with  a  lot  of  common  sense.  It's  a  common  thing  to 
say  of  a  successful  look-out  that  he  has  a  '  quick 
nose  for  submarines.1  The  expression  is  used  more 
or  less  figuratively,  of  course;  and  yet  the  nose — 
the  sense  smell — is  by  no  means  a  negligible  factor 
in  detecting  the  presence,  and  even  the  bearing,  of 
a  hunted  U-boat.  I  will  tell  you  shortly  how  it 
figured  in  this  particular  instance. 

"  That  wake  was  swirling  up  so  strong  when  we 
struck  it  that  it  was  plain  the  submarine  was  still 
only  on  the  way  down,  and  it  was  no  surprise  when, 
a  few  seconds  later,  the  distinct  form  of  it  was 
visible,  close  aboard  under  the  starboard  side  of  the 
bridge. 

"  I  don't  mean  that  it  was  distinct  in  the  sense 
that  you  could  see  details  such  as  the  bow  or  stern 
rudders,  or  even  the  conning-tower,  but  only  that  a 
moving  cigar-shaped  blob  of  darker  green  could  be 
plainly  made  out.  The  forward  end  was  rather 
more  sharply  defined  than  the  after,  probably  be- 
cause the  swirl  from  the  propellers  made  uneven 
refraction  about  the  tail.  It  was  doubtless  a  good 
deal  deeper  than  it  looked,  and  the  fact  that  it 


146 


SEA-HOUNDS 


could  be  seen  at  all  must  have  been  almost  entirely 
due  to  the  fact  that  the  absence  of  wind  left  the 
surface  quite  unrippled. 

"  The  appearance  of  the  submarine  abreast  the 
bridge  was  our  cue  to  get  busy,  and  I  won't  need 
to  tell  you  that  we  went  to  it  good  and  plenty.  We 
were  primed  for  just  that  kind  of  an  emergency, 
and  we  slapped  down  a  barrage  in  a  way  that 
looked  more  like  chucking  coppers  for  kids  to 
scramble  after  than  the  really  scientific  planting 
of  high  explosives  that  it  was.  For  a  minute  or  two 
the  little  old  Sherill,  dancing  down  the  up-tossed 
peaks  of  the  explosions,  jolted  along  like  the  canoe 
you  are  dragging  over  a  l  corduroyed '  portage. 
Then  the  going  grew  smooth  again,  and  under  a 
hard-over  right  rudder  we  turned  back  rejoicing  to 
gather  in  the  sheaves.  Yes,  it  looked  quite  as  sim- 
ple as  harvesting  on  the  old  home  farm,  and  it 
didn't  seem  that  there  could  be  anything  left  to  do 
but  to  go  back  and  pick  up  with  the  rake  what  the 
mower  had  brought  low.  And  so  it  would  have 
been  on  an  ordinary  occasion,  which,  unluckily, 
this  was  not.  From  the  first  to  last,  indeed,  it  was 
quite  the  contrary. 

"  The  whole  map  of  that  little  opening  brush  was 
spread  out  before  us  as  we  came  back,  and  almost 
as  clearly,  for  the  moment,  as  though  modelled  in 
coloured  clay.  The  Sherill's  wake,  though  it  had 
obliterated  that  of  the  submarine,  coincided  with 
the  tell-tale  swirl  of  the  latter  we  had  followed, 


YANK  BOAT  VERSUS  U-BOAT        147 

while  the  round  patches  of  spreading  foam  made  the 
dizzily  dancing  buoys  temporarily  superfluous  as 
markers  of  the  spots  where  the  depth-charges  had 
exploded.  Like  every  other  story  that  is  writ  in 
water,  this  one  was  rapidly  dissolving ;  but,  from  all 
that  we  needed  to  learn  from  it,  the  record  was  as 
complete  as  a  bronze  rejief. 

"That  there  was  to  be  another  chapter  to  the 
story  became  evident  before  we  had  doubled  back 
half  the  length  of  that  part  of  the  wake  we  had 
sprinkled  with  '  cans.'  At  about  the  point  where 
two-thirds  of  that  sheaf  of  depth-charges  had  been 
expended  a  clearly  defined  wake  of  oil  and  bubbles 
turned  sharply  off  to  the  left.  The  presence  of  that 
little  trail  cleared  up  several  important  points 
right  then  and  there  without  following  it  any 
farther,  though  I  will  hardly  need  to  tell  you  that 
we  didn't  drop  anchor  to  hold  a  court  of  inquiry 
over  it.  The  vital  thing  it  told  us  was  that — 
strange  as  it  seemed — our  under-water  bombard- 
ment had  not  sent  the  U-boat  to  the  bottom,  nor 
even  injured  it  sufficiently  to  compel  it  to  come 
to  the  surface.  But  that  it  was  injured,  and  prob- 
ably fairly  badly,  was  proved  by  the  wake  of  oil 
and  bubbles.  Don't  ever  let  any  one  delude  you 
with  that  yarn  about  the  way  Fritz  sends  up  oil 
and  bubbles  to  baffle  pursuit.  There  may  be  cir- 
cumstances under  which  he  could  work  that 
particular  brand  of  foxiness  with  profit,  but  if 
there  is  one  place  where  you  could  be  sure  he  would 


148 


SEA-HOUNDS 


not  try  anything  of  that  kind  on,  it  is  when  a  de- 
stroyer has  got  his  nose  on  his  trail,  with  her  eye 
and  ears  a-cock  for  just  that  kind  of  little  first-aid 
to  '  can-dropping.'  For  a  submarine  voluntarily 
to  release  air  or  oil  when  a  destroyer  is  ramping 
round  overhead  would  be  just  about  like  a  burglar 
scattering  a  trail  of  confetti  to  baffle  the  pursuit  of 
the  police.  Fritz  is  as  full  of  ways  that  are  dark 
and  of  tricks  that  are  vain  as  Ah  Sin,  but — with  the 
hounds  at  his  heels — nothing  so  foolish  as  that  oil 
and  bubble  stunt  of  popular  fiction. 

"  The  first  few  of  the  '  cans '  had  evidently  burst 
near  enough  to  this  Fritz  to  buckle  his  shell  and 
release  the  oil  and  air,  but  his  sharp  right-angled 
turn  to  the  left  had  taken  him  quite  clear  of  the  last 
of  the  charges,  which  had  only  been  thrown  away. 
Wounded  and  winged  as  he  appeared  to  be,  the  next 
thing  in  order  was  to  polish  him  off.  Slowing  down 
slightly,  the  captain  steadied  the  Sherill  on  the 
wake. 

"  As  we  passed  the  point  where  this  was  rising, 
the  rate  at  which  it  was  extended  gave  the  approx- 
imate speed  of  the  U-boat,  and  the  fact  that  this 
was  not  above  three  knots  seemed  only  another 
indication  that  all  was  not  well  with  him.  Holding 
on  past  the  '  bubble  fount/  we  passed  over  the  point 
below  which  the  U-boat  must  have  been  moving,  but 
now  he  was  so  much  more  deeply  submerged  than 
before  that  no  hint  of  his  outline  was  visible  on 
either  side.  We  knew  he  was  there,  however,  and 


YANK  BOAT  VERSUS  U-BOAT        149 

when  we  hit  the  proper  place  shook  loose  another 
shower  of  '  cans  '  over  him. 

"  There  is  nothing  deeply  mysterious  about  the 
calculations  in  dropping  depth-charges,  for  in  no 
sense  of  the  term  can  it  be  called  an  instrument  of 
precision.  Indeed,  it  is  of  the  bludgeon  rather  than 
the  rapier  type.  If  you  have  a  wake  to  guide,  you 
approximate  his  speed  and  course  from  that,  guess 
at  his  depth,  set  the  charge  at  the  corresponding 
depth  from  which  you  judge  its  explosion  will  do 
most  good,  and  then,  allowing  for  your  own  speed 
and  course,  release  it  at  a  point  which  you  reckon 
the  target  will  have  reached  by  the  time  the  charge 
gets  down  on  a  level  with  it.  It  is  something  like 
bomb-dropping  from  an  aeroplane,  only  rather  less 
accurate,  because  you  don't  see  your  target  as  a 
rule. 

"  This  is  more  than  compensated  for,  however,  by 
the  greater  vulnerability  of  its  target  and  the  fact 
that  the  force  of  an  under- water  explosion  is  felt 
over  a  wider  area  than  that  of  an  air-bomb.  That's 
about  all  there  is  to  it.  Success  in  <  can-dropping ' 
depends  about  half  on  the  skill  and  judgment  of 
the  man  directing  it,  and  about  half  on  luck.  Or 
perhaps  I  should  say  that  fifty-fifty  was  about  the 
way  it  stood  when  we  started  in  at  the  game. 
Naturally,  as  we  have  accumulated  experience, 
skill  and  judgment  begin  to  count  for  more  and 
luck  for  less,  though  we  are  a  long  way  from  reach- 
ing the  point  where  the  latter  is  eliminated  entirely. 


150 


SEA-HOUNDS 


"  Again  we  circled  back  to  pick  up  the  pieces,  and 
again  we  found  only  a  wake  of  oil  and  bubbles 
angling  sharply  off  from  where  the  '  cans  '  had  been 
dropped.  It  was  encouraging  to  note  that  both  oil 
and  bubbles  were  rising  faster  than  before,  but 
there  was  surprise  and  disappointment  in  the  fact 
that  they  were  now  streaming  along  at  a  rate  which 
indicated  Fritz  was  hitting  an  under-water  speed 
of  six  or  seven  knots. 

"  By  now  it  was  plain  what  his  method  was,  how- 
ever. This  was  to  steady  on  his  course  till  his 
hydrophones,  which  all  U-boats  are  fitted  with,  of 
course,  told  him  we  were  bearing  down  on  him,  and 
then  to  start  making  (  woggly  '  zigzags.  The  cap- 
tain was  doing  some  deep  thinking  as  we  headed  in 
for  the  next  attack,  and  I  noticed  him  following 
his  stopwatch  with  more  than  usual  care  as  he 
jiggled  off  the  *  cans.' 

"  One  of  the  detonations  had  a  different  kick  from 
the  others,  and  I  was  just  speculating  if  it  had  been 
a  hit,  when  up  comes  Fritz,  rolling  like  a  harpooned 
whale. 

"  We  were  just  turning  sharp  under  left  rudder 
and,  not  wanting  to  take  any  chances,  the  captain 
gave  orders  for  all  guns  fearing  to  open  fire.  No. 
1  and  No.  2  of  the  port  battery  got  off  about  five 
rounds  apiece,  and  when  the  splashes  from  the  ex- 
ploding shells  had  subsided  Fritz  had  gone.  It 
looked  like  a  hundred  to  one  that  we  had  finished 
him — until  we  ran  into  another  of  those  darn  wakes 


rANK  BOAT  VERSUS  U-BOAT        151 


f  oil  and  bubbles  reeling  off  at  a  good  five  or  six 
knots. 

"  Again  we  '  canned '  him,  and  again  the  thicken- 
ing trail  of  grease  gave  promise  that,  if  nothing 
else,  we  were  at  least  bleeding  him  hard,  perhaps 
to  death.  As  there  was  no  doubt  that  he  was  still 
a  going  concern,  however,  the  captain  decided  on  a 
change  of  tactics,  to  try  attrition,  so  to  speak, 
instead  of  direct  assault. 

"  There  is,  of  course,  a  limit  to  the  number  of 
*  cans '  a  destroyer  can  carry,  and  those  which  still 
remained  he  wanted  to  husband  against  a  better 
chance  to  use  them  with  effect.  The  several  remain- 
ing hours  of  daylight  would  be  enough,  if  the  U-boat 
could  be  kept  running  at  maximum  speed,  to  ex- 
haust its  batteries  in  and  force  it  to  come  to  the 
surface  for  lack  of  power  to  keep  going  submerged. 
A  submarine,  you  understand,  unless  it  can  lie  on 
the  bottom,  which  was  impossible  here  on  account 
of  the  depth,  must  keep  under  weigh  to  maintain 
its  bouyancy,  so  it  follows  that  the  exhaustion  of 
its  batteries  leaves  no  alternative  but  coming  up. 
That  was  what  we  were  now  driving  at  with  this 
one. 

"  About  this  time,  hearing  the  radio  of  the  Cusli- 
man  close  aboard,  the  captain  sent  a  signal  request- 
ing her  help  in  clearing  up  the  job  in  hand.  She 
hove  in  sight  presently,  accompanied  by  the  Fanny, 
which  was  out  with  her  on  some  special  stunt  of 
their  own.  They  had  an  hour  to  spare  for  us,  and 


152 


SEA-HOUNDS 


in  that  time  we  played  just  about  the  merriest  little 
game  of  hide-and-seek  that  any  of  our  destroyers 
have  had  with  a  Fritz  since  the  Yanks  came  over. 

"  He  wasn't  left  time  to  sit  and  think  for  a  single 
minute.  Now  a  destroyer  would  come  charging  up 
his  wake  from  astern  and  shy  a  '  can  '  at  his  tail ; 
now  one  would  ambush  him  from  ahead  and  try  and 
have  one  waiting  where  his  nose  was  going  to  be. 

"  It  was  a  good  deal  like  when  three  or  four  of 
us  kids  used  to  spear  catfish  in  a  muddy  pool.  We 
were  always  grazing  one,  but  never  quite  getting 
it.  And,  believe  me,  the  wake  of  one  of  those  catfish 
didn't  have  anything  on  the  wake  of  that  Fritz  for 
sinuosity. 

"  He  was  zigzagging  constantly,  and  just  after 
charges  had  been  dropped  on  him  he  twice  broached 
surface.  It  was  only  for  a  few  seconds  though, 
and  never  long  enough  to  offer  a  target  for  even  a 
ranging  shot.  Once  we  tried  to  ram,  but  he  turned 
as  he  submerged,  and  the  forefoot  cut  into  nothing 
more  solid  than  his  propeller  swirl. 

"  After  the  Cushman  and  Fanny  left  us  to  resume 
their  own  job  the  Sherill  took  up  the  chase  again  on 
her  own  account.  There  were  still  about  three 
hours  to  go  till  dark,  and  two  of  these  we  spent  in 
keeping  our  quarry  on  the  jump  by  every  trick  we 
knew.  Then  we  stood  away,  and  gave  him  a  chance 
to  come  up  and  start  charging  on  the  surface. 
When  it  finally  became  evident  that  he  was  not 
going  to  take  advantage  of  our  consideration  on  this 


YANK  BOAT  VERSUS  U-BOAT        153 

score,  we  closed  in  again,  picked  up  his  wake,  sent 
down  another  l  can '  or  two  to  tell  him  what  we 
thought  of  him. 

"  The  last  of  these  must  have  been  near  to  a  hit, 
for  it  brought  up  oil  bubbles  three  feet  in  diameter, 
with  smaller  bubbles  of  air  inside  of  them.  The 
oil-slick  left  behind  by  his  wake  was  so  heavy  that, 
even  in  the  failing  light,  it  was  visible  for  several 
miles.  He  was  now  making  about  five  knots.  We 
followed  that  broad  slick  of  oil  for  some  time  after 
darkness  had  fallen,  and  it  was  not  till  a  little 
before  midnight  that  we  lost  it. 

"  There  wasn't  much  hope  of  regaining  touch 
before  daybreak,  but  on  the  off-chance  the  captain 
started  circling  in  a  way  that  would  cover  a  lot  of 
sea,  and  yet  not  take  us  too  far  from  the  centre  of 
interest. 

"  It  was  a  little  after  one  in  the  morning  that 
one  of  the  look-outs — perhaps  *  sniff-outs  '  would  be 
a  better  term  under  the  circumstances — reported  an 
oil  smell  to  windward.  The  captain  promptly 
ordered  her  headed  up  into  the  wind,  with  sniffers 
stationed  to  port  and  starboard,  fore  and  aft. 
Every  man  on  watch  was  sniffing  away  on  his  own, 
of  course,  and  you  can  bet  it  would  have  been  a 
funny  sight  if  there  had  only  been  enough  light  for 
us  to  see  one  another  in.  Nosing — I  can  use  the 
term  literally  this  time — slowly  along,  turning  now 
to  port,  now  to  starboard,  as  the  oil  smell  was 
strongest  from  this  side  or  that,  within  ten  minutes 


154  SEA-HOUNDS 

we  picked  up  a  slick  which,  even  in  the  darkness,  it 
was  evident  was  trending  to  southward.  For  an 
hour  and  a  half  we  zigzagged  up  along  that  wake, 
keeping  touch  by  smell  until  just  before  three 
o'clock,  when  the  new  well-risen  moon  showed  it 
up  distinctly  to  the  eye.  No,"  answering  my  friv- 
olous interruption,  "  I  don't  recall  noticing  at  the 
time  that  it  was  a  blue  moon. 

"  Ten  minutes  later  we  came  up  to  where  the 
wake  turned  to  south-westward,  and  had  a  brief 
glimpse  of  Fritz  trying  to  evade  detection  by  run- 
ning down  the  moon-path.  He  was  plainly  near 
the  end  of  his  juice,  and  taking  every  chance  that 
offered  to  charge  on  the  surface.  He  ducked  under 
before  there  was  time  for  a  shot,  but,  knowing  that 
he  could  hardly  stay  there  for  long,  we  continued 
following  down  his  wake. 

"  It  was  broad  daylight  when,  at  half-past  four, 
we  sighted  him  again,  running  awash  about  five 
hundred  yards  ahead  and  slightly  on  the  starboard 
bow.  Ordering  the  bow  gun  to  open  fire,  the  cap- 
tain put  the  Sherill  at  full  speed  and  headed  in  to 
ram.  The  shots  fell  very  close,  but  no  hit  was 
observed. 

"  He  turned  sharply  to  port,  preparing  to  dive. 
We  tried  to  follow  with  full  left  rudder,  but  missed 
by  twenty  feet.  His  conning-tower  and  two  peri- 
scopes showed  not  over  thirty  feet  from  the  port 
side  as  we  swept  by.  It  was  too  close  for  a  torpedo, 
nor  was  there  a  fair  chance  for  a  depth-charge. 


YANK  BOAT  VERSUS  U-BOAT        155 

The  port  battery  was  opening  on  him  as  he  sub- 
merged. 

"  The  strengthening  breeze  began  kicking  up  the 
surface  about  this  time,  making  it  difficult  to  follow 
the  wake.  It  was  six  o'clock  before  we  circled  into 
it  again,  to  find  that  Fritz  was  now  trying  to  blind 
pursuit  by  steering  his  course  so  that  the  wake  led 
away  straight  toward  the  low  morning  sun.  It 
was  probably  by  accident  rather  than  design  that 
his  now  reversed  course  also  laid  his  wake  across 
some  of  the  zigzags  of  his  old  oil-slick.  At  any  rate, 
between  that  and  the  sun,  we  got  off  the  scent 
again,  and  did  not  get  in  touch  till  an  hour  later, 
when  a  thin  blue-white  vapour  to  the  eastward 
revealed  the  blow-off  of  his  exhaust  where  he  had 
resumed  charging  on  the  surface. 

"  He  was  a  good  five  miles  away,  but  we  turned 
loose  at  him  with  the  bow  gun  and  started  closing 
at  full  speed.  At  almost  the  same  time,  the 
British  sloop  Moonflower — the  same  one  we  were 
talking  about  this  evening — stood  in  from  eastward, 
also  firing  at  the  enemy,  who  was  about  midway 
between  us. 

"  Fritz  disappeared  under  the  foam-spouts 
thrown  up  by  the  fall  of  shot,  and,  although  two 
more  destroyers  joined  in  the  hunt,  which  was  con- 
tinued all  that  day  and  on  to  nightfall,  no  further 
trace  of  him  was  discovered.  Even  if  he  did  not 
sink  at  once,  the  chances  are  all  against  his  being 
in  shape  ever  to  get  back  to  base.  But  just  the 


156  SEA-HOUNDS 

same,"  he  concluded,  with  a  wistful  smile,  "  it 
would  have  been  comforting  to  have  had  something 
more  tangible  than  the  memory  of  an  oil  smell  and 
thirty-six  hours  without  sleep  as  souvenirs  of  that 
little  brush." 

It  had  been  dark  for  an  hour  where  the  waters  of 
the  River  Lee  were  streaming  seaward  with  the  ebb- 
ing tide,  but  the  tree-tops  along  the  crest  of  the 
eastward  hills  were  silvering  in  the  first  rays  of  the 
rising  moon.  The  signalman  was  looking  at  it 
when  I  bade  him  good  night  and  started  down  the 
ladder  to  the  main  deck. 

"  I  hope  it  isn't  a  blue  one,"  he  said  with  a  grin ; 
"  we're  expecting  to  go  out  again  tomorrow." 


CHAPTER  VII 


ADRIATIC  PATROL 

BORING  into  a  North  Sea  blizzard  in  a  de- 
stroyer off  the  coast  of  Norway  is  not  exactly 
the   kind   of  thing  that  one   would  think 
would  turn  a  man's  thoughts  to  sunny  climes,  with 
scented  breezes  blowing  over  flowery  fields,  and 
cobalt  skies  arching  over  sapphire  waters,  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing ;  but  the  human  mind  moves  in  a 
mysterious  way,  and  that  is  just  what  Lieutenant 

K started  talking  about  the  night  we  were 

shepherding  the  northbound  convoy  together,  after 
it  had  been  temporarily  scattered  by  wrhat  had 
proved  to  be  an  abortive  German  light  cruiser  raid. 
Sea-booted,  mufflered  and  goggled,  and  ponderous 
wrhere  his  half-inflated  "  Gieve  "  bulged  beneath  his 
ample  duffle-coat,  he  leaned  over  the  starboard  rail 
of  the  bridge  for  a  space  to  get  the  clear  view 
ahead  that  the  frost-layer  on  the  wind-screen 
denied  him  from  anywhere  inboard.  Then,  just 
ducking  a  sea  that  rolled  in  tumultuously  fluent 
ebony  over  the  forecastle  gun  and  smothered  the 
bridge  in  flying  spray,  he  nipped  across  and  threw 
a  half-Nelson  around  a  convenient  stanchion  be- 
fore the  pitch,  as  she  dived  down  the  back  of  the 

157 


158  SEA-HOUNDS 

retreating  wave,  threw  him  against  the  port  rail. 

"  Got  'em  all  in  line  again/7  he  said,  pushing  his 
face  close  to  mine.  "  That's  something  to  be  thank- 
ful for,  anyhow.  Didn't  expect  to  round  up  half 
of  'em  before  we  had  to  stand  away  to  pick  up  the 
southbound.  Piece  of  uncommon  good  luck.  Now 
we  can  stand  easy  for  a  spell." 

I  was  about  to  observe  that  "stand  easy  "  didn't 
seem  to  me  quite  the  appropriate  term  to  apply  to 
the  act  of  keeping  one's  balance  on  a  craft  which 
was  blending  thirty-degree  rolls  with  forty-degree 
pitches  to  form  a  corkscrew-like  motion  of  an  eccen- 
tricity comparable  to  nothing  else  in  the  gamut  of 
human  experience,  when  he  continued  with :  "  Not 
much  like  what  I  was  enjoying  a  month  ago,  this," 
indicating  the  encompassing  darkness  with  a 
rotary  roll  of  his  head.  "  I  was  in  a  destroyer  at 
an  Italian  base  then — Brindisi — with  the  smell  of 
dust  and  donkeys  and  wine-shops  in  the  air,  and 
straight-backed,  black-haired,  black-eyed  girls,  with 
rings  in  their  ears  and  baskets  of  fruit — soft  red 
and  yellow  and  blue  fruit — on  their  heads.  Now 
it's  " — and  she  put  her  nose  deep  into  a  wave  that 
dealt  her  a  sledge-hammer  blow  and  sent  spray 
flying  half-way  to  the  foretop  in  a  solid  stream — 
"  this,  just  this.  Grey  by  day,  black  by  night,  and 
slap-bang  all  the  time.  No  light,  no  colour,  no 
atmosphere,  no '> 

"  I  quite  understand,"  I  cut  in.  "  No  straight- 
backed  girls  with  rings  in  their  ears  and  fruit- 


ADRIATIC  PATROL  159 

baskets  on  their  heads.  Of  course,  there's  more 
light  and  colour  down  there  than  here ;  but  wasn't 
there  also  a  bit  of  slap-bang  to  it  now  and  then?  " 

"  Ay,  there  was  a  bit,'1  he  replied.  "  There  was 

the  time "  He  started  to  tell  me  the  already 

time-worn  yarn  of  the  Yarmouth  trawler  skipper 
and  the  Grimsby  trawler  skipper,  each  of  whom, 
enamoured  of  the  same  Taranto  maid,  wooed  her 
while  the  other  was  absent  on  patrol;  of  how  one 
of  them,  looking  through  his  glass  as  he  stood  in 
toward  the  entrance  on  one  of  his  return  trips, 
saw  his  rival  walking  on  the  beach  with  arm  round 
the  waist  of  the  artful  minx  in  question,  and  her 
red-and-yellow  kerchief-bound  head  resting  on  his 
shoulder;  of  how  the  one  on  the  trawler,  consumed 
by  a  jealousy  fairly  Latin  in  its  intensity,  swung 
round  his  six-pounder,  discharged  it  at  the  faithless 
pair,  and — so  crookedly  did  the  rage-blind  eyes  see 
through  the  sights — hit  a  fisherman's  hut  half  a 
mile  away  from  his  target ! 

I  had  heard  the  story  in  Taranto  a  year  pre- 
viously, and  knew  it  to  be  somewhat  apocryphal  at 
best.  "  I  didn't  mean  that  kind  of  '  slap-bang,'  " 
I  said.  "  I  was  under  the  impression  that  the  de- 
stroyers had  some  rather  lively  work  down  there 
on  one  or  two  occasions." 

"  There  were  several  brushes  which  might  have 
been  called  lively  while  they  lasted/'  he  admitted. 
"  I  was  in  one  of  them  myself  just  before  I  was 
transferred  north." 


160 


SEA-HOUNDS 


"  You  don't  mean  the  recent  attack  on  the  drifter 
patrol — the  one  where  two  British  destroyers  stood 
the  brunt  of  the  attack  of  four  Austrian  destroyers 
and  a  light  cruiser  or  two?  "  I  asked.  "  I  have 
always  wanted  to  hear  about  that.  I've  heard 
Italian  naval  men  say  some  very  flattering  things 
of  the  way  the  British  carried  on." 

"  That's  the  one,"  he  replied.  "  I  was  in  the  Flop 
— the  one  that  got  rather  the  worst  banging  up." 

"  You've  just  got  time  for  the  yarn  before  your 
watch  is  over,"  I  said,  settling  myself  into  the 
nearest  thing  to  a  listening  attitude  that  one  can 
assume  on  the  bridge  of  a  destroyer  bucking  a 
north-east  gale.  "  Fire  away." 

I  didn't  much  expect  he  would  "  come  through," 
for  I  had  failed  in  so  many  attempts  to  draw  a  good 
yarn  by  a  frontal  attack  of  this  kind  that  I  had 
little  faith  in  it  as  compared  with  more  subtle 
methods.  Perhaps  it  was  because  rough  methods 
were  suited  to  the  rough  night ;  or  it  may  have  been 

only  because  K 's  mind  (his  non-working 

mind,  I  mean ;  not  that  closed  compartment  of 
sense  and  instinct  with  which  he  was  directing  his 
ship)  had  drifted  back  to  the  Adriatic,  and  he  was 
glad  of  the  chance  to  talk  about  it ;  at  any  rate,  in 
the  hour  that  had  still  to  go  before  eight  bells  went 
for  midnight,  to  the  accompaniment  of  the  banging 
of  the  seas  on  the  bows  and  the  obbligato  of  the 
spray  beating  on  the  glass  and  canvas  of  the 
screens,  he  told  me  the  story  I  asked  for. 


ADRIATIC  PATROL 


161 


"  I  don't  need  to  tell  you/'  lie  said,  after  giving 
the  man  at  the  wheel  the  course  for  the  next  zigzag, 
"  that  the  Adriatic  is  full  of  various  and  sundry 
little  traps  and  contrivances  calculated  to  inter- 
fere as  much  as  possible  with  the  even  tenor  of  the 
way  of  the  Austrian  U-boats  which,  basing  at  Pola 
and  Trieste,  sally  forth  in  an  endeavour  to  pen- 
etrate the  Straits  of  Otranto  and  attack  the  com- 
merce of  the  Mediterranean.  You  doubtless  also 
know  that  this  work  is  very  largely  in  British 
hands.  This  is  no  reflection  whatever  on  our 
Italian  ally.  Italy  simply  did  not  have  the  material 
and  the  trained  men  for  the  task  in  hand,  and  since 
Britain  had  both,  it  was  naturally  up  to  us  to  step 
in  and  take  it  over.  This  was  done  over  two  years 
ago;  but,  like  the  anti-submarine  work  everywhere, 
it  is  only  now7  just  beginning  to  round  into  shape  to 
effect  its  ends.  The  winter  of  his  discontent  for  the 
U-boat  in  these  waters  is  closing  in  fast. 

"  You  will  understand,  too,  that  these  various 
anti-U-boats  contrivances  take  a  lot  of  looking  after 
to  prevent  their  interference  with,  or  even  their 
complete  destruction,  by  enemy  surface  craft.  All 
the  good  harbours  are  on  the  east  coast  of  the 
Adriatic,  and  that  sea  is  so  narrow  that  swift 
Austrian  destroyers  can  raid  all  the  way  across  it 
at  many  points,  and  still  have  time  to  get  back  to 
their  bases  the  same  night.  With  our  own  bases 
— the  only  practicable  ones  available — at  the  ex- 
treme southern  end  of  the  Adriatic,  our  greatest 


162  SEA-HOUNDS 

difficulty,  perhaps,  has  been  in  guarding  against 
these  swift  tip-and-run  night-raids  by  the  enemy's 
speedy  surface  craft.  I  don't  know  whether  the 
fact  that  we  seein  to  have  about  put  an  end  to  their 
operations  of  this  kind  is  a  greater  tribute  to  our 
enterprise  or  the  Austrians'  lack  of  it.  The  brush 
in  question  occurred  as  a  consequence  of  the  latest 
of  the  Austrian  attempts  to  interfere  with  the 
measures  which,  he  knows  only  too  well,  will  ulti- 
mately reduce  his  U-boats  to  comparative  im- 
potence. 

"  I  was  Number  Two  in  the  Flop,  which,  with  the 
Flip,  was  patrolling  a  certain  billet  well  over 
toward  the  Austrian  coast  of  the  Adriatic.  We  had 
turned  at  about  eleven  o'clock,  and  were  heading 
back  on  a  westerly  course,  when  the  captain  sighted 
a  number  of  vessels  just  abaft  the  starboard  beam. 
Being  almost  in  the  track  of  the  low-hanging  moon, 
they  were  sharply  silhouetted ;  but  the  queer  atmos- 
pheric conditions  played  such  pranks  with  their 
outlines  that,  for  a  time,  he  was  deceived  as  to  their 
real  character.  The  warm,  coastal  airs,  blowing  to 
sea  for  a  few  hours  after  nightfall,  have  a  tendency 
to  produce  mirage  effects  scarcely  less  striking  than 
those  one  sees  on  the  desert  along  the  Suez  Canal. 
It  was  the  distortion  of  the  mirage  that  was  respon- 
sible for  the  fact  that  the  captain  mistook  two 
Austrian  light  cruisers  for  small  Italian  transports 
(such  as  we  frequently  encountered  on  the  run  be- 
tween Brindisi  and  Valona  or  Santi  Quaranti), 


ADRIATIC  PATROL 


163 


and  that  be  reported  what  shortly  turned  out  to  be 
enemy  destroyers  as  drifters. 

"  The  captain  had  just  made  a  shaded  lamp  sig- 
nal to  the  Flip,  calling  attention  to  the  ships  and 
their  supposed  character,  when  the  white,  black- 
curling  bow-wave  of  the  two  leaders  caught  his  eye 
and  made  him  suspect  they  were  warships.  The 
alarm  bell  clanging  for  <  Action  Stations'  was  the 
first  intimation  I  had  that  anything  was  afoot.  In 
the  Adriatic,  as  everywhere  else,  everyone  in  a  de- 
stroyer turns  in  '  all  standing ' ;  so  it  was  only  a 
few  seconds  until  I  was  out  of  my  bunk  and  up  to 
my  station  on  the  bridge.  It  was  not  many  minutes 
later  before  I  found  myself  in  command  of  the  ship. 

"It  was  now  clear  that  the  force  sighted  con- 
sisted of  two  enemy  light  cruisers  and  four 
destroyers,  the  latter  disposed  two  on  each  quarter 
of  the  rear  cruiser.  They  were  closing  on  us  at 
high  speed  at  a  constant  bearing  of  a  point  or  two 
abaft  the  beam.  It  was  up  to  the  Flip,  as  senior 
ship,  to  decide  whether  to  fight  or  to  run  away  on 
the  off-chance  of  living  to  fight  another  day,  some- 
thing which  was  hardly  likely  to  happen  in  the 
event  we  closed  in  a  real  death  grapple.  The  dis- 
parity between  our  strength  and  that  of  the  enemy 
would  have  entirely  justified  us  in  doing  our  utmost 
to  avoid  a  decisive  fight,  had  it  been  that  the  cards 
on  the  table  were  the  only  ones  in  the  game.  But 
this  was  hardly  the  case.  Out  of  sight,  but  still 
not  so  many  miles  distant,  was  another  subdivision 


164:  SEA-HOUNDS 

of  our  destroyers,  while  overwhelming  forces  would 
ultimately  be  hurrying  up  to  our  aid  in  case  the 
enemy  could  be  delayed  long  enough.  To  close  in 
immediate  action  was  plainly  the  thing,  and  the 
Flip  was  turning  in  to  challenge  even  as  she  made 
us  a  signal  indicating  that  this  was  her  decision. 
A  moment  more,  and  we  were  turning  into  line 
astern  of  her. 

"  Out  of  the  moon-track  now,  the  outlines  of  the 
enemy  ships  were  indistinct  and  shadowy,  and  it 
was  from  the  dull  blur  of  opacity  above  the  slightly 
phosphorescent  glow  of  the  'bone'  in  the  teeth  of 
the  leading  cruiser  that  the  opening  shot  was  fired. 
It  lighted  her  up  brilliantly  for  the  fraction  of  a 
second,  and  the  ghostly  geyser  from  the  bursting 
shell  showed  up  distinctly  a  few  hundred  yards 
ahead  of  the  Flip.  Both  the  sharpened  image  of  the 
cruiser  in  the  light  of  the  gun-fire  and  the  time  of 
flight  of  the  shell  helped  us  with  the  range,  and  the 
fall  of  shot  from  the  Flip's  opener  looked  like  a  very 
near  thing.  We  followed  it  writh  one  from  our 
fo'c'sr  gun,  which  was  a  bit  short,  and  the  next,  if 
not  a  hit,  was  only  slightly  over.  At  this  juncture, 
all  six  of  the  enemy  ships  came  into  action  with 
every  gun  they  could  bring  to  bear,  and  the  Flip 
and  the  Flop  did  the  same.  For  the  next  few 
minutes  things  happened  so  fast  that  I  can't  be 
sure  of  getting  them  in  anywhere  near  their  actual 
sequence. 

"  We  began  hitting  repeatedly,  and  with  good 


ADRIATIC  PATROL 


165 


effect,  after  the  first  few  shots,  and  the  Flip  also 
appeared  to  be  throwing  some  telling  ones  home. 
The  enemy  were  hitting  the  both  of  us  about  the 
same  time,  however,  and,  of  course,  with  many 
times  the  weight  of  metal  we  were  getting  to  him. 
At  this  juncture  the  skipper  of  the  Flip,  evidently 
figuring  that  the  Austrians,  now  that  they  were 
fully  engaged  and  had  a  good  chance  of  polishing 
us  off,  would  not  break  off  the  fight,  turned  south- 
ward with  the  idea  of  drawing  them  toward  the 
other  forces  which  we  knew  would  be  rushing  up 
in  response  to  the  signal  we  had  sent  out  the  instant 
the  character  of  the  strange  ships  was  evident. 

"  The  Flip,  like  a  big  squid,  began  smoke-screen- 
ing heavily  as  she  turned,  the  Flop  following  suit. 
The  sooty  oil  fumes  poured  out  in  clouds  thick 
enough  to  walk  on,  but  unluckily,  neither  our 
course  nor  the  state  of  the  atmosphere  was  quite 
favourable  for  making  it  go  where  it  would  have 
served  us  best.  Possibly  it  was  because  the  Flip 
was  making  a  better  screen  than  the  Flop,  or  pos- 
sibly it  was  because  they  were  concentrating  on  the 
'  windy  corner '  just  as  we  were  rounding  it.  At 
any  rate,  trying  to  observe  through  our  rather 
patchy  smoke  the  effect  of  what  appeared  to  be  a 
couple  of  extremely  well-placed  shots  of  ours  on 
the  leading  cruiser,  I  suddenly  became  aware  that 
all  four  of  the  destroyers  and  the  second  cruiser 
were  directing  all  of  their  fire  upon  the  poor  little 
Flop.  I  don't  recall  exactly  whether  I  twigged  this 


166  SEA-HOUNDS 

before  we  began  to  feel  the  effects  of  it  or  not,  but 
I  am  rather  under  the  impression  that  I  seemed 
to  sense  it  from  the  brighter  brightness — a  gun 
firing  directly  at  you  makes  a  more  brilliant  flash 
than  the  same  gun  laid  on  a  target  ahead  or  astern 
of  you — of  the  flame-spurts  even  before  I  was  aware 
of  the  sudden  increase  of  the  fall  of  shot. 

"  They  had  us  ranged  to  a  yard  by  this  time,  of 
course,  and  the  captain  turned  away  a  couple  of 
points  in  an  endeavour  to  throw  them  off.  I  recall 
distinctly  that  it  was  just  as  the  grind  of  the  ported 
helm  began  to  throb  up  to  the  bridge  that  a  full 
salvo — probably  from  one  of  the  cruisers — came 
crashing  into  us.  My  first  impression  was  that  we 
were  blown  up  completely,  for  of  the  two  shells 
which  had  struck  forward,  one  had  brought  down 
the  mast  and  the  other  had  scored  a  clean  hit  on  the 
forebridge.  There  was  also  a  hit  or  two  aft,  but  the 
immediate  effects  of  these  were  not  evident  in  the 
chaos  caused  by  the  others.  This  was  absolutely 
beyond  description. 

"  The  actual  shock  to  a  ship  of  being  struck  by 
a  shell  of  even  large  calibre  is  nothing  to  compare 
with  that  from  almost  any  one  of  these  seas  that 
are  crashing  over  us  now.  But  it  is  the  noise  of  the 
explosion,  the  rending  of  metal,  and  the  bang  of 
flying  fragments  and  falling  gear  that  makes  a 
heavy  shelling  so  staggering,  to  mind  if  not  to  body. 
Of  course  everyone  on  the  forebridge  was  knocked 
flat  by  the  explosion  of  the  shell  which  hit  it,  and 


ADRIATIC  PATROL 


167 


the  worst  of  it  was  that  the  most  of  us  didn't  get  up 
again.  The  sub  and  the  middy  who  were  acting  as 
Control  Officers  were  blown  off  their  platform  and 
so  badly  knocked  up  that  they  were  unable  to  carry 
on.  One  signalman  and  one  voice-pipe  man  were 
killed  outright. 

"  The  rest  of  us  were  only  shaken  up  or  no  more 
than  slightly  wounded  by  this  particular  shell,  but 
the  one  which  brought  down  the  mast  added  not  a 
little  both  to  casualties  and  material  damage.  The 
radio  aerials  came  down  with  the  mast,  of  course, 
and  it  was  some  of  the  wreckage  from  one  or  the 
other  that  fell  on  the  captain,  wounding  him 
severely  in  both  arms.  Dazed  and  shaken,  he  still 
gamely  stuck  to  the  wreck  of  the  bridge,  but  the 
active  command  now  fell  to  me. 

"  This  damage,  serious  as  it  was,  was  by  no  means 
the  extent  of  that  inflicted  by  this  unlucky  salvo. 
A  third  shell,  as  I  shortly  learned,  had  passed 
through  the  fore  shell-room  and  into  the  fore 
magazine.  In  which  it  exploded  I  could  not  quite 
make  sure,  but  both  were  set  on  fire.  This  fire  got 
to  some  of  the  cordite  before  it  was  possible  to  get 
it  away,  and  the  ensuing  explosion  killed  or 
wounded  most  of  the  supply  parties  and  the  crews 
of  the  twelve-pounders.  It  was  brave  beyond  all 
words,  the  fight  those  men  made  to  save  the  ship 
down  in  that  unspeakable  hell-hole,  and  it  was  due 
wholly  to  their  courage  and  devotion  that  the  ex- 
plosion was  no  worse  than  it  was.  This  troubler 


^68  SEA-HOUNDS 

luckily,  was  hardly  more  than  local,  but  a  number 
of  good  lives  was  the  price  of  keeping  it  so. 

"  There  was  one  other  consequence  of  that  salvo, 
and  though  it  sounds  funny  to  tell  about  it  now,  it 
might  well  have  made  all  the  difference  in  the  world 
to  us.  In  the  bad  smashing-up  of  the  bridge  of  any 
ship  by  shell-fire  the  means  of  communication  with 
the  rest  of  her — the  voice-pipes,  telephones,  tele- 
graphs, etc. — are  among  the  first  things  to  be 
knocked  out.  This  means,  if  there  are  no  alterna- 
tives left,  that  directions  have  to  be  relayed  around 
by  shouting  from  one  to  another  until  the  order 
reaches  the  man  to  carry  it  out.  This  would  be  an 
awkward  enough  expedient  for  a  ship  that  is  not 
under  fire  and  fighting  for  time  and  her  life.  What 
it  is  with  the  enemy's  shell  exploding  about  you, 
and  with  your  own  guns  firing,  I  will  leave  you  to 
imagine.  Well,  we  had  all  this  going  on,  and  be- 
sides that  a  fire  raging  below  that  always  had  the 
possibilities  of  disaster  in  it  until  it  was  extin- 
guished. Also,  we  were  already  short-handed 
from  our  losses  in  killed  and  wounded.  There 
wasn't  anyone  to  spare  to  relay  orders  about  in  any 
case.  But  what  capped  the  climax  was  this :  When 
the  mast  was  shot  down,  some  of  the  raffle  of  rig- 
ging or  radio  fouled  the  wires  leading  back  to  both 
of  the  sirens,  turning  a  full  pressure  of  steam  into 
them  and  starting  them  blowing  continuously.  It 
was  almost  as  though  the  poor  maimed  and  mangled 
'Flop  were  wailing  aloud  in  her  agony. 


ADRIATIC  TATROL 


169 


"  I  didn't  think  of  it  that  way  at  the  time,  though, 
for  I  had  my  hands  full  wailing  loud  enough  myself 
to  make  even  the  man  at  the  wheel  understand  what 
1  wanted  him  to  do.  Luckily,  the  engine-room  tele- 
graph, though  somewhat  cranky,  was  still  in  action, 
and  orders  to  other  parts  of  the  ship  we  managed 
to  convey  by  flash-lamp  or  messenger.  It  was  ten 
minutes  or  more  before  they  contrived  to  hush  the 
sirens — it  was  cutting  off  their  steam  that  did  it,  I 
believe — and  by  then  a  new  and  even  more  serious 
trouble  had  developed  through  the  jamming  of  the 
helm.  It  was  hard  over  to  starboard  at  that,  so 
that  the  Flop  simply  began  turning  round  and 
round  like  a  kitten  chasing  its  tail.  This  involun- 
tary manoeuvre  had  one  favourable  effect  in  that 
it  seemed  to  throw  the  Austrian  gunnery  off  for  a 
bit,  though  one  shell  which  penetrated  and  ex- 
ploded in  the  after  tiller-flat  shortly  after  she  began 
cutting  capers  did  not  make  it  any  easier  to  coax 
the  jammed  helm  into  doing  its  bit  again. 

"  Our  6  ring-around-the-  roses '  course  had  re- 
sulted in  our  coming  much  nearer  to  the  enemy, 
who,  seeing  a  chance  to  finish  us  off,  was  trying  to 
close  the  range  at  high  speed.  Our  rotary  course 
brought  them  on  a  continually  shifting  bearing,  and 
it  was  while  they  were  coming  up  on  our  port  bow 
at  a  distance  of  less  than  a  mile  that  it  suddenly 
became  evident  that  the  cruisers  were  about  to 
present  us  the  finest  and  easiest  kind  of  a  torpedo 
target.  The  captain,  who,  in  spite  of  his  wounds, 


SEA-HOUNDS 


was  still  trying  to  stick  the  show  through,  saw  the 
opening  as  soon  as  I  did,  and,  because  there  was  no 
one  else  free  to  attempt  the  trick,  tackled  it  himself. 
But  it  was  a  case  of  the  spirit  being  willing  and  the 
flesh  weak.  With  every  ounce  of  nerve  in  him  he 
tried  to  make  his  almost  useless  hands  work  the 
forebridge  firing-gear.  The  chance  passed  while 
he  still  fumbled  frantically  but  vainly  to  release  the 
one  little  messenger — a  mouldie — that  would  have 
been  enough  to  square  accounts,  and  with  some  to 
spare.  It  was  the  hardest  thing  of  all — not  being 
able  to  take  advantage  of  that  opening. 

"  It  was  twenty  minutes  before  the  helm  was  of 
any  use  at  all,  and  the  Austrians  had  only  their 
lack  of  nerve  to  thank  for  not  putting  us  down 
while  they  had  a  chance.  It  must  have  been  be- 
cause they  were  afraid  of  some  kind  of  a  trap,  for 
there  were  a  half-dozen  ways  in  which  a  force  of 
their  strength  could  have  disposed  of  a  ship  as  help- 
less and  knocked-out  generally  as  was  the  Flop. 
The  Flip  had  also  been  hard  hit,  and  when  I  had 
a  chance  for  a  good  look  at  her  again  it  appeared 
that  her  mast,  like  ours,  was  trailing  over  the  side. 
She  was  still  firing,  however,  and  it  was  she  rather 
than  the  enemy  that  was  trying  to  close.  We  were 
quite  cut  off  from  wireless  communication,  as  all 
attempts  to  disentangle  the  aerials  from  the 
wreckage  of  the  mast  had  been  unsuccessful ;  but  it 
was  evident  that  help  was  coming  to  us,  and  that 
the  Austrians  had  in  some  way  got  wind  of  it.  At 


ADRIATIC  PATROL 


171 


any  rate,  our  immediate  responsibilities  were  over. 
We  had  prevented  the  enemy  from  reaching  his 
objective,  and  possibly  delayed  him  long  enough  for 
some  of  our  other  ships  to  have  a  chance  at  harry- 
ing his  retreat.  It  was  now  up  to  us  to  limp  to 
port  on  whatever  legs  we  had  left. 

"  We  were  still  a  long  way  from  being  out  of 
action  even  now,  but  with  the  fires  continuing  to 
burn  fiercely  in  the  fore  magazine  and  shell-room, 
with  the  helm  threatening  to  jam  every  time  course 
was  altered,  and  with  a  considerable  mixture  of 
water  beginning  to  make  its  presence  felt  in  the 
oil,  there  was  no  telling  what  complications  might 
set  in  at  any  moment.  As  one  of  the  Italian  bases 
in  Albania  was  rather  nearer  than  any  port  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Adriatic,  it  was  for  that  we  set 
our  still  erratic  course. 

"  Our  troubles  were  not  yet  over,  however.  Just 
as  the  moon  came  down  and  sat  on  the  sea  pre- 
liminary to  setting,  squarely  against  the  round 
yellow  background  it  formed  I  saw  the  silhouette 
of  the  conning-tower  of  a  U-boat.  At  almost  the 
same  instant  the  helm  jammed  again.  Then  it 
worked  free  for  a  few  seconds,  but  only  to  jam 
presently,  just  as  before.  This  continued  during 
two  or  three  minutes,  and  just  as  it  was  wangled 
right  and  we  began  to  steady  again  I  saw  the  wake 
of  a  torpedo  pass  across  our  bows.  Half  a  minute 
later  another  one  missed  us  in  the  same  way,  and 
by  about  the  same  distance.  I  have  always  thought 


172  SEA-HOUNDS 

that  nothing  but  that  providential  jamming  of  the 
helm  just  then  saved  us  from  intercepting  both  of 
those  mouldies. 

"  The  fires  in  the  fore  shell-room  and  magazine 
were  eventually  got  under  control  by  flooding,  and 
we  were  fairly  cushy  when  we  dropped  anchor  at 
base  a  little  before  daybreak/' 

K lurched  over  to  the  starboard  rail  and 

counted  the  dark  blurs  that  represented  the  units  of 
the  straggling  convoy.  He  was  wiping  snow  and 
spray  from  his  face  as  he  slid  back  on  the  roll  to 
our  stanchion. 

"  Fine  place,  Southern  Albania/'  he  muttered. 
"  Plenty  of  heat  and  dust  and  sunshine  and— 

I  never  did  hear  what  the  rest  of  those  Albanian 
attractions  were.  At  that  juncture  dusky  figures 
emerging  from  the  deeper  gloom  of  the  ladder 
heralded  the  appearance  of  the  middle  watch,  and 
for  those  relieved,  including  myself,  the  world  held 
just  one  thing — a  long,  narrow  bunk,  with  a  high 
side  rail  to  prevent  the  occupant  from  rolling  out. 
You  go  at  your  sleep  on  a  destroyer  as  a  dog  dives 
at  a  bone,  for  you  never  know  how  long  it  may  be 
before  you  get  another  chance. 


CHAPTER  VIII 


T 


PATROL 

HE  Senior  Naval  Officer  (or  the  S.N.O.,  as 

they  clip  it  down  to)  at  X had  prepared 

me  for  finding  an  interesting  human  exhibit 
in  the  sharp-nosed,  stub-sterned  little  craft  snug- 
gled up  to  the  breast  of  its  mothership  for  a  drink 
of  petrol,  or  whatever  other  life-giving  essence  she 
lived  and  laboured  on,  but  hardly  for  the  highly 
diversified  assortment  that  was  to  reveal  itself  to 
me  during  those  memorable  days  we  were  to  rub 
shoulders  and  soak  up  blown  brine  and  grog  to- 
gether as  they  threaded  the  gusty  sea  lanes  of  her 
winter  North  Sea  patrol. 

"  I  am  sending  you  out  on  M.L.* ,"  the  S.N.O. 

had  said  as  he  gazed  down  with  an  affectionate 
smile  at  the  object  of  his  remarks,  "  for  several  rea- 
sons, but  principally  on  account  of  the  men  that 
are  in  her.  You'll  find  them  a  living,  breathing 
object-lesson  in  the  adaptability  of  the  supposedly 
stodgy  and  inflexible  Anglo-Saxon  race.  Her  skip- 
per, to  use  one  of  his  own  favourite  expressions,  is 
a  live  wire — always  seems  to  be  able  to  spark  wrhen 
there's  trouble  in  the  wind.  He  came  from  some- 

*  Motor  launch. 
173 


174 


SEA-HOUNDS 


where  in  Western  Canada,  I  believe.  Seems  to  have 
tried  farming  there  for  a  spell,  and  I  think  he  said 
something  once  about  running  his  own  agricultural 
tractor.  At  any  rate,  in  some  way  or  another,  he 
has  picked  up  more  practical  knowledge  of  petrol 
engines  than  many  of  our  so-called  experts. 

"  The  fact  is,"  continued  the  S.N.O.  as  we  turned 
back  towards  his  office  at  the  end  of  the  quay,  "  the 

fact  is  that  D ,  though  he  never  saw  salt  water 

before  he  crossed  the  Atlantic  to  do  his  bit  in  the 
War,  and  though  he  never  has  got  and  never  will 
get,  I'm  afraid,  his  sea-legs,  is  in  many  respects  the 
most  useful  M.L.  Officer  I  have  ever  had  to  do  with, 
and  that's  saying  a  good  deal,  let  me  assure  you. 

"  He's  always  sick  as  a  dog  from  the  time  he  puts 
to  sea  to  the  time  he  returns  to  port.  The  only 
thing  that  is  liable  to  be  more  sick  is  the  Hun  sub- 
marine he  once  gets  his  nose  on.  I've  heard  him 
say  in  a  joking  way,  two  or  three  times,  that  he 
always  could  scent  a  Hun  as  far  as  he  could  a 
skunk — I  think  that's  what  he  calls  it;  and  from 
some  of  the  things  he's  done  I  must  confess  I'm 
more  than  half  inclined  to  believe  him.  Perhaps 
his  most  remarkable  achievement,  however,  is  that 
of  taking  eight  or  ten  men,  just  as  green  as  he  was 
himself  regarding  the  sea,  and  making  of  them  a 
crew  that  will  handle  that  cranky  little  lump  of  a 
craft  pretty  nearly  as  smartly  as  old  trawler-men 
would  on  the  nautical  side,  and  at  the  same  time 
having  a  fund  of  resource  always  on  tap  that  is 


PATROL 


175 


positively  uncanny — almost  Yankee,  in  fact,-'  he 

added  with  a  smile.     "  Indeed,  I  believe  D 

speaks  of  having  knocked  about  the  States  a  bit, 
which  may  account  for  some  of  the  '  wooden-nut- 
meg' tricks  he  has  played  on  the  U-boats.  Try 
to  get  him  to  tell  you  some  of  them.  You'll  hardly 
be  allowed  to  write  much  of  them  for  a  while  yet — 
certainly  not  until  they  have  become  obsolete 
through  the  introduction  of  new  devices;  but  you'll 
find  it  good  material  some  day." 

M.L. looked  more  diminutive  than  ever  as  I 

was  rowed  out  to  her  anchorage  in  the  chill  grey 
mists  of  the  following  morning;  but  a  raw  cold, 
which  had  been  striking  through  to  the  marrow  of 
my  bones,  dissolved,  as  by  magic,  before  the  friendly 
warmth  of  the  welcome  which  awaited  me,  when  I 
had  clambered  up  the  sawn-off  Jacob's  Ladder  and 
over  the  wobbly  wire  rail.  A  slender  but  lithely 
active  chap  in  a  greasy  overall  and  jumper,  to  give 
it  the  Yankee  name,  gave  me  a  finger-crushing  grip 
with  his  right  hand,  .while  with  his  left  he  deftly 
caught  and  saved  from  immersion  my  kit-bag,  which 
had  fallen  short  in  the  toss  that  had  been  given  it 
from  below.  Just  for  an  instant  the  absence  of 
visible  insignia  of  rank  made  me  think  that  he  was 
a  petty  officer  of  engineers,  or  something  of  the 
kind;  then  the  magnetism  of  his  personality  flowed 
to  me  through  the  medium  of  his  hand-clasp,  and  I 
knew  I  was  looking  into  the  eyes  of  a  man  who 


176 


SEA-HOUNDS 


would  not  be  likely  to  figure  for  long  as  anything 
less  than  "  Number  One  "  on  any  kind  of  job  he 
ever  undertook. 

"  You're  just  in  time  for  a  '  square/  "  he  said 
heartily,  leading  the  way  to  the  tiny  hatch  and  pre- 
ceding me  down  the  ladder.  "  You'll  be  needing  it, 
too,  after  that  pull  with  nothing  more  than  that 
sloppy  dish-wash  kaffy-o-lay  that  you  get  at  the 
hotel  at  this  hour  of  the  morning  on  your  stomach. 
Don't  try  to  bluff  me  that  you  had  anything  more. 
1  know  by  sad  experience.  Now  /'//  give  you  some- 
thing that'll  stick  to  your  ribs.  What  do  you  say 
to  some  Boston  baked  beans  and  a  '  stack  o'  hots  '? 
Guess  I  know  what  a  'Murican  likes.  Sorry  my 
maple  syrup's  gone,  but  here's  some  dope  I  syn- 
thesised  out  of  melted  sugar  and  m'lasses— treacle, 
they  call  it  over  here." 

Reaching  the  lower  deck,  we  edged  along  to  a 
transom  at  the  end  of  a  table  which  all  but  filled 
the  tiny  dining-cabin. 

"  Shake  hands  with  Mac,"  said  the  skipper  by 
way  of  introducing  me  to  a  tall  and  extremely  good- 
looking  youth  in  a  Cardigan  jacket,  duffel  trousers, 
and  sea-boots,  who  rose  with  a  smile  of  welcome  as 
we  dropped  down  beside  him.  "  Mac's  a  Canuck, 
like  myself,"  he  went  on,  after  asking  me  if  I  liked 
my  eggs  "  straight  up  "  or  "  turned  over,"  and  pass- 
ing the  order  on  to  a  diminutive  Cockney  with  a 
comedian's  face,  who  came  tripping  in  almost  as 
though  wafted  on  the  "smell  o'  cooking"  which 


PATROL 


177 


preceded   him   through    the  opened   galley    door. 

"  Mac  learned  his  sailoring  on  his  dad's  yacht  on 
Lake  Ontario,  and  I  learned  mine  driving  a  *  deep- 
seagoing  '  side-wheel  tractor  on  a  ranch  in  Alberta. 
Only  time  I  was  ever  afloat  before  I  became  a 
*  Capt'in  in  the  King's  Navee '  was  on  a  raft  on  the 
old  Missouri,  in  Dakota;  and  that  isn't  really  being 
afloat,  you  know,  for  'bout  one  half  the  water  of 
that  limpid  stream  is  mud  and  the  other  half  cat- 
fish. A  great  pair  of  old  salts,  we  two — hey,  Mac? 

"  And  the  rest  of  the  crew's  no  more  *  saline ' 
than  its  '  orfficers.'  That's  the  way  they  say  it, 
ain't  it,  Mac?  Little  'Arry,  the  galley-slave,  was  a 
knock-about  artist  in  the  London  music-halls  before 
he  'eard  the  sea  a-callin',  and  now  he  doesn't  'eed 
nothin'  else,  do  you,  Harry?  And  you'll  hear  the 
sea  a-callin'  that  nice  big  breakfast  of  yours  just  as 
soon  as  we  get  outside  the  Heads,  won't  you,  Harry? 
And  then  you  won't  'eed  nothin'  else  for  quite  a 
while.  And  so'll  Mac  hear  the  sea  a-calling  his 
breakfast,  and  so'll  I,  and  so'll  all  the  rest  of  us — 
every  mother's  son.  It's  a  fine  lot  of  Jack  Tars  we 
are,  the  whole  bunch  of  us.  Did  I  tell  you  that  one 
of  my  quartermasters  is  an  ex-piano-tuner,  and  that 
the  other  was  a  Salvation  Army  captain  before  he 
entered  the  Senior  Service  for  the  duration?  And 
my  Chief — that's  him  you  hear  alternating  between 
tinkering  and  swearing  at  the  engines  on  the  other 
side  of  that  bulkhead  you're  leaning  against — 
owned  a  motor-boat  of  his  own  before  the  War,  and 


178  SEA-HOUNDS 

appears  to  have  divided  his  waking  hours  between 
racing  that  and  his  stable  of  motor-cars?  You  can 
tell  he  was  a  gentleman  once  by  the  fluency  of  his 
cussing.  He's  the  only  man  I've  met  over  here  that 
could  give  yours  truly  any  kind  of  a  run  in  dispens- 
ing the  pungent  persiflage;  but  I  had  the  advan- 
tage of  driving  mules  as  a  kid. 

"  But  cussing,  though  it  helps  with  a  lot  of  things, 
doesn't  make  a  sailor,  and  the  Chief's  no  more  of 
a  Jack  Tar  than  me  or  Mac  or  Harry.  Fact  is,  that 
the  only  man  aboard  who  ever  made  his  living  out 
of  the  sea  before  the  war  is  a  fisherman  from  the 
Hebrides ;  and  even  the  glossary  in  the  back  of  my 
Bobbie  Burns  won't  translate  his  lingo.  Two  or 
three  times,  when  the  sea  has  been  kicking  up  a  bit, 
he  has  managed  to  tell  us  that  no  self-respecting 
God-fearing  sailor  would  be  oot  in  such  weather. 
Possibly  he's  been  right;  but,  as  none  of  us  are 
sailors,  we  don't  feel  called  on  to  pay  much  atten- 
tion to  his  ravings.  Our  duty  is  to  harass  any  Huns 
that  encroach  on  our  beat;  and  the  fact  that  we've 
had  a  modicum  of  success  in  that  line  proves  you 
don't  have  to  be  a  sailor  to  qualify  for  the  job. 
Which  don't  mean,  though,"  he  concluded  with  a 
smile  of  sad  resignation  as  he  rose  and  reached  for 
his  oil-skins,  "  that  I  don't  hope  and  pray  that 
I'll  develop  the  legs  and  stomach  of  a  sailor  before 
the  war's  over." 

When  breakfast  was  eaten,  forward  and  aft,  all 
hands  were  piped  on  deck,  and  in  less  than  ten 


PATROL 


179 


linutes  M.L. was  under  way  and  threading 

the  winding  channels  of  a  cliff-begirt  Firth  to  the 
mist-masked  waters  of  the  North  Sea. 

As  I  picked  my  way  forward  to  the  little 
glassed-in  cabin,  which  served  the  double  purpose 
of  navigating-bridge  and  wheel-house,  I  told  myself 
that  I  was  sure  of  two  things — first,  that  the  skip- 
per, by  birth,  breeding,  residence,  and  probably 
citizenship,  was  an  American  of  Americans,  and, 
second,  that  the  chances  wrere  he  would  not  admit 
that  fact  unless  I  "  surprised  him  with  the  goods." 
An  Englishman  will  often  mistake  a  Canadian  for 
an  American  but  a  Yankee  himself  will  rarely  make 
that  error.  I  was  sure  of  my  man  on  a  dozen 
counts,  and  resolved  to  lay  in  figurative  ambush 
for  him. 

I  all  but  had  him  within  the  hour.  We  were  clear 
of  the  Heads,  and  the  skipper,  having  turned  over 
to  Mac,  was  trying  to  forget  that  imperious  call  o' 
the  sea  he  had  chaffed  'Arry  about  by  showing  me 
round.  He  had  explained  the  way  a  depth-charge 
was  released,  and  was  just  beginning  to  elaborate 
on  the  functions  of  an  old-fashioned  lance-bomb. 

"  Now  this  fellow,"  he  said,  balancing  the  un- 
gainly contrivance  and  giving  it  a  gingerly  twirl 
about  his  head,  "  is  a  good  deal  like  the  sixteen- 
pound  hammer  which  I  used  to  throw  at  college." 

Knowing  that  the  hammer-throw  was  not  a  Cana- 
dian event,  I  promptly  cut  in  with  "  What  col- 


180  SEA-HOUNDS 

lege?  v  "  Minnesota,"  he  answered  readily  enough ; 
adding,  as  I  began  to  grin :  "  A  good  many  Cana- 
dians go  across  there  for  the  agricultural  courses." 
I  resolved  to  await  a  more  favourable  opportunity 
before  bringing  my  "  charge  "  point-blank.  It  came 
that  afternoon,  when  I  stood  beside  him  on  the 
bridge  as  he  bucked  her  through  ten  miles  of  slash- 
ing head-sea,  which  had  to  be  traversed  to  gain  the 
shelter  of  a  land-locked  bay  beyond  a  jutting  point, 
where  we  were  to  lie  up  for  the  night.  He  wras 
telling  me  U-boat-chasing  yarns  in  the  patchy  in- 
tervals between  the  demands  of  mal  de  mer  and 
navigation,  and  one  of  them  ended  something  like 
this :  "  Old  Fritz— just  as  we  intended  he  should 
— caught  the  reflection  of  the  flame  through  his 
upturned  periscope  and,  thinking  his  shells  had  set 
us  afire,  rose  gleefully  to  gloat  over  his  Hunnish 
handiwork.  Bing!  I  let  him  have  it  just  like 
that." 

The  motion  with  which  he  flung  the  lemon  he  had 
been  sucking  as  an  antidote  for  sea-sickness  could 
not  have  been  in  the  least  suggestive  of  what  really 
happened;  but  that  straight-from-the-shoulder,  el- 
bow-flirting, right-off-the-ends-of-the-fmgers  action 
was  so  like  another  motion  with  which  I  had  long 
been  familiar,  that,  with  a  meaning  side-squint,  I 
observed  promptly: 

"  So  you  add  baseball  to  your  other  accomplish- 
ments, do  you?  Did  a  bit  of  pitching,  if  I  don't 
miss  my  guess?  How  long  have  you  played?  " 


PATROL 


181 


"  Since  I  was  a  kid,"  he  admitted  with  a  grin  that 
sat  queerly  on  the  waxy  saffron  of  his  sea-sick  face. 
"  Yes,  I  even  '  tossed  the  pill '  at  college — that  is, 
until  a  shoulder  I  knocked  out  trying  to  slide  home 
one  day  spoiled  my  wing/1 

I  knew  I  had  him  the  instant  that  first  admission 
left  his  lips.  "  Since  the  kids  weren't  playing  sand- 
lot  baseball  in  Canada  twenty  years  ago,"  I  said, 
ducking  low  to  let  the  spray  from  a  sea  which  had 
just  broken  inboard  blow  over,  "  you  might  just  as 
well  'fess  up  and  tell  me  which  neck  of  the  Missis- 
sippi Valley  you  hail  from.  Just  as  one  Yankee 
to  another/'  I  pressed,  as  his  piercing  eye  turned  on 
me  a  look  that  seemed  to  bore  right  through  and 
run  up  and  down  my  spine ;  "  even  as  one  Middle 
Westerner  to  another,  for  I  was  born  in  Wisconsin 
myself." 

For  an  instant  his  lips  hardened  into  a  straight 
line,  and  the  flexed  jaw-muscles  stood  out  in  white 
lumps  on  either  side;  then  his  mouth  softened  into  a 
broadening  grin,  and  a  moment  later  he  burst  into 
a  ringing  laugh. 

"  Sure  thing,  old  man,  since  you  put  it  on  '  sec- 
tional '  grounds,  and  since  we're  going  to  be  ship- 
mates for  a  week,  and  " — fetching  me  a  thumping 
wallop  on  the  back — "  since  we  both  wear  the  same 
uniform,  anyhow,  curly  stripe  and  all,  I'll  make  a 
clean  breast  of  it.  I  was  born  in  Kansas — got  a 
farm  there,  near  a  little  burg  called  Stockton,  to- 
day— and  was  never  out  of  the  Middle  West  in  my 


382 


SEA-HOUNDS 


life  till  I  crossed  over  into  Canada  to  enlist  in  the 
first  year  of  the  war.  I  felt  I  had  to  get  into  the 
show  somehow,  and  the  little  old  U.S.A.  was  hang- 
ing fire  so  in  the  matter  of  coming  in  that  I  just 
couldn't  wait.  I'll  tell  you  the  whole  story  when 
we're  moored  for  the  night." 

I  have  never  been  able  to  recall  my  yarn  with 

D that  evening  without  a  hearty  guffaw.  A 

rising  barometer  had  cleared  the  grey  smother  of 
mist  from  the  sea,  but  a  shift  of  the  wind  from 
south-east  to  north-east  exposed  us  to  a  blast  which, 
chilled  at  its  fount  in  the  frozen  fjords  of  Norway, 
knocked  the  bottom  out  of  the  thermometer  and 
filled  the  air  with  needle-like  shafts  of  congealed 
moisture  that  seemed  to  have  been  chipped  from 
the  glassy  steel  dome  of  the  now  cloudless  sky. 
There  was  a  filigree  of  frost  masking  the  wheel- 
house  windows  before  the  early  winter  night 
clapped  down  its  lid,  and  the  men  who  went  forward 
to  pass  a  line  through  the  ring  of  the  mooring- 
buoy  pawed  the  icy  deck  with  their  stiff-soled  sea- 
boots  without  making  much  more  horizontal  pro- 
gress than  a  squirrel  treading  its  wheel. 

It  would  have  been  bracing  enough  if  there  had 
been  a  cheery  open  fire,  or  at  least  a  glowing  little 
sheet-iron  stove,  to  thaw  and  dry  out  at,  as  there 
is  on  most  patrol  craft,  and  even  on  many  trawlers. 
But  in  the  particular  type  to  which  M.L.—  -  be- 
longed (the  units  of  which  are  said  to  have  been 


PATROL 


183 


built  in  fulfilment  of  a  rush  order  given  one  winter 
on  the  assumption  that  the  War  would  be  over  be- 
fore the  next)  there  was  no  refinements  and  few 
comforts.  Heating  is  not  included  among  the  lat- 
ter :  the  only  stove  in  the  boat  being  in  the  galley, 
where  the  drying  of  wet  togs  in  restricted  quarters 
is  responsible  for  a  queer  but  strangely  familiar 
taste  to  the  pea-soup  and  Irish  stew  which  you  never 
quite  account  for  until  you  discover  the  line  of 
grease  on  the  corner  of  the  tail  of  your  oilskin  or 
the  toe  of  your  sea-boot. 

The  diminutive  electric  heaters  are  true  to  the 
first  part  of  their  name  rather  than  the  last :  that  is 
to  say,  while  they  are  undeniably  electric,  it  is 
equally  certain  that  they  do  not  heat.  There  is  a 
certain  amount  of  warmth  in  them,  as  I  discovered 
the  time  I  scorched  my  blankets  by  taking  one  to  bed 
with  me;  but  that  is  of  use  only  when  you  can  con- 
fine it  and  apply  locally,  which  is  rarely  practicable 
in  a  small  craft  at  sea,  even  when  you  have  the  time 
for  it. 

It  will  be  readily  understood,  therefore,  why  on 
a  M.L.,  at  sea  in  really  wintry  weather,  the  only 
alternative  to  sitting  up  and  being  slowly  but  surely 
chilled  to  the  marrow  is  to  doff  wet  togs  as  soon  as 
you  come  off  watch,  don  dry  ones,  bolt  your  dinner, 
and  turn  in.  This  is  just  what  we  had  to  do  on 
M.L.  —  -  that  night;  for,  besides  the  really  in- 
tense cold,  a  sea  which  came  through  the  sky-light 
of  the  little  dining-cabin  early  in  the  afternoon  had 


184 


SEA-HOUNDS 


drenched  cushions  and  curtains,  with  enough  lei 
over  to  form  an  inch  or  two  of  swashing  swirl  upon 
the  deck.  Poor  '  Arry,  with  the  effects  of  the  "  call 
o'  the  sea"  still  showing  in  his  hollow  eyes  and 
pasty  cheeks,  was  not  in  shape  to  do  much  either  in 
the  way  of  "  slicking  up  "  or  "  snugging  down  " ; 
while  the  extent  of  his  culinary  effort  was  limited  to 
a  kedgeree  of  half-boiled  rice  and  pale  canned 
salmon,  and  a  platter  of  eggs  fried  "  straight  up,'1 

according  to  D 's  order,  with  the  yolks  glaring 

fish-eyedly  at  you  from  a  smooth,  waxy  expanse  of 
congealed  grease.  D ,  who  was  still  some- 
what "introspective1'  himself,  turned  down  the 
"  straightups  "  straightaway,  bent  a  look  that  was 
more  grieved  than  angry  on  the  forlorn  'Arry,  and 
then,  rising  shiveringly,  started  edging  along  over 
the  sodden  divan  toward  his  cabin  door. 

"  As  principal  medical  officer  of  this  ship,"  he 
said  through  chattering  teeth,  "  I  prescribe  the  only 
treatment  ever  found  to  be  efficacious  in  such  cir- 
cumstances as  the  present — bunk,  blankets,  and 
hot  toddy/1 

There  were  two  bunks  in  D 's  narrow  cabin, 

and  it  was  not  until  we  had  turned  into  these — he  in 
the  lower,  I  in  the  upper — that  the  mounting  glow 
of  soul  and  body  thawed  the  reserve  wrhich  had 
again  threatened  to  grip  him  in  the  matter  of 
where  he  came  from,  and  set  his  tongue  wagging  of 
his  life  on  the  old  home  farm,  and  from  that  to  a 
sketchy  but  vivid  recital  of  things  that  he  had  done, 


PATROL  185 

and  hoped  still  to  do,  as  the  skipper  of  a  British 
patrol  boat.  It  is  the  vision  that  the  memory  of 

that  recital  conjures  up:  D ,  with  a  Balaclava 

helmet  pulled  low  over  his  ears,  gesticulating  ex- 
citedly up  to  where  I,  the  unblanketed  portion  of 
my  anatomy  shrouded  to  the  eyes  in  a  wool  duffel- 
coat,  leaned  out  over  the  edge  of  the  bunk  above — 
that  I  can  never  dwell  on  without  laughing  out- 
right. 

The  story  of  the  wray  in  which  it  happened  that 

D came  over  to  get  into  the  game  in  the  first 

place  did  not  differ  greatly  from  those  I  have  heard 
from  a  score  or  more  of  young  Americans  who, 
partly  inspired  by  a  sense  of  duty  and  partly  lured 
by  the  promise  of  adventure,  sought  service  in  the 
British  Army  or  Navy  by  passing  themselves  off  as 
Canadians.  He  had  intended  to  enlist  in  the  Army 
at  first;  but  when  he  found  that  six  months  or  more 
might  elapse  before  he  would  be  sent  to  the  other 
side,  he  crossed  at  his  own  expense  on  the  chance  of 
avoiding  the  delay.  At  the  end  of  a  disappointing 
month  spent  in  trying  to  enlist  in  some  unit  that 
had  a  reasonable  expectation  of  going  into  active 
service  at  once,  the  intervention  of  an  old  college 
friend — an  able  young  chemical  engineer  occupying 
a  prominent  post  in  Munitions — secured  him  a  sub- 
lieutenant's commission  in  the  R.N.V.R.  Al- 
though, as  he  naively  put  it,  the  sea  was  no  friend 
of  his,  it  appears  that  the  M.L.  game  had  proved 
congenial  from  the  outset :  so  much  so,  indeed,  that 


186 


SEA-HOUNDS 


something  like  three  years  of  service  found  him 
with  two  decorations  and  innumerable  mentions  to 
his  credit,  to  say  nothing  of  the  reputation  of  being 
one  of  the  most  resourceful,  energetic  and  generally 
useful  men  in  a  service  in  which  all  of  those  qual- 
ities are  taken  more  or  less  as  a  matter  of  course. 
He  had  gone  in  as  a  Canadian  for  fear  that  he 
might  be  turned  down  as  a  Yankee,  and  then,  to 
use  his  own  words :  "  By  the  time  the  U.S.A.  began 
to  take  a  hand,  I  had  told  so  many  darn  lies  about 
hunting  and  fishing  and  farming  in  Alberta  and 
British  Columbia  that  I  concluded  it  would  be  less 
trouble  to  go  on  telling  them  than  to  start  in  deny- 
ing them.  The  boundary  between  Canada  and  the 
U.S.A.  is  more  or  less  of  an  imaginary  line,  any- 
how, and  so  is  that  between  the  average  Yankee  and 
Canuck.  I  reckon  I've  made  it  just  as  hot  for  the 
Hun  as  the  latter  as  I  would  have  as  the  former, 
and  that's  really  the  only  thing  that  counts  at  this 
stage  of  the  game.'-  It  was  this  last  observation,  I 

believe,  which  started  D talking  of  his  work. 

"  Generally  speaking,"  he  said,  reaching  up  the 
match  with  which  he  had  just  lighted  a  cigarette  to 
rekindle  the  tobacco  in  my  expiring  pipe,  "the 
role  of  the  M.L.  is  very  much  more  defensive  than 
it  is  offensive.  It  is  supposed  to  police  certain 
waters,  watch  for  U-boats,  report  them  when 
sighted,  and  then  carry  on  as  best  it  can  till  a  de- 
stroyer, or  sloop,  or  some  craft  with  a  real  punch  in 
it,  comes  up  and  takes  over.  Well,  my  idea  from 


PATROL  187 

the  first  has  been  to  make  that  '  defensive '  just  as 
*  offensive '  as  possible,  and  it's  really  astonishing 
how  obnoxious  some  of  us  have  been  able  to  make 
ourselves  to  the  Hun.  Off-hand,  since,  with  his 
heavier  guns,  the  average  Hun  is  more  than  a 
match  for  us  even  on  the  surface,  there  wouldn't 
seem  much  that  we  could  do  against  him  beyond 
running  and  telling  one  of  our  big  brothers.  The 
perfecting  of  the  depth-charge  gave  us  one  very 
formidable  weapon,  however,  and  that  of  the  lance- 
bomb  another,  though  the  days  when  Fritz  was 
tame  and  gullible  enough  to  allow  himself  to  be 
enticed  sufficiently  near  to  permit  the  use  of  the 
latter  are  long  gone  by.  The  most  satisfying  job 
I  ever  did,  though,  was  pulled  off  with  a  lance- 
bomb  ;  and,  since  there  is  not  one  chance  in  a  thou- 
sand of  our  ever  getting  away  with  the  same  kind 
of  stunt  again,  there  ought  to  be  no  kick  on  my  tell- 
ing you  just  how  it  happened. 

"  You  see,"  he  went  on,  pulling  a  big  furry- 
backed  mitten  on  the  hand  most  exposed  to  the  cold 
in  gesticulation,  and  tucking  the  fingers  of  the  other 
inside  the  neck  of  the  Balaclava  for  warmth, 
"  Fritz  is  an  animal  of  more  or  less  fixed  habits, 
and  so  the  best  way  to  hunt  him,  like  any  other 
animal,  is  to  begin  by  making  a  study  of  his  little 
ways.  I  specialised  on  this  for  some  mouths,  con- 
fining myself  almost  entirely  to  what  he  did  in 
attacking,  or  when  being  attacked  by,  M.L.s,  and 
ignoring  his  tactics  with  sloops,  trawlers,  and  other 


188 


3A-HOUNDS, 


light  craft.  It  wasn't  long  before  I  discovered  that 
his  almost  invariable  practice — when  it  was  a  mat- 
ter of  only  himself  and  a  M.L. —  was  to  get  the 
latter's  range  as  quickly  as  possible,  endeavour  to 
knock  it  out,  or  at  least  set  it  afire,  by  a  few  hurried 
shots,  and  then  to  submerge  and  make  an  approach 
under  water  for  the  purpose  of  making  a  closer 
inspection  of  the  damage  inflicted.  In  this  way  the 
danger  of  a  hit  from  the  M.L.'s  gun  was  reduced  to 
a  minimum — an  important  consideration,  as  a 
holing  by  even  a  light  shell  might  wrell  make  it 
impossible  to  submerge  again.  And  a  U-boat  in- 
capable of  seeking  safety  in  the  depths  is,  in  any 
part  of  the  North  Sea  where  it  would  have  been 
likely  to  meet  a  M.L.,  just  as  good  as  done  for. 

u  I  also  found  that  when  explosions  had  taken 
place  in  the  M.L.,  or  when  it  was  heavily  afire  by 
the  time  the  U-boat  drew  near,  it  was  the  practice 
of  the  latter  to  come  boldly  up  and  finish  the  good 
work  at  leisure,  with  the  addition  of  any  of  the 
inimitable  little  Hunnisms — such  as  firing  on  the 
boats,  or  ramming  them,  or  running  at  full  speed 
back  and  forth  among  the  wreckage  so  as  to  give 
the  screws  a  good  chance  to  chop  up  the  swimming 
survivors — of  which  Unterseeboot  skippers  were 
even  then  becoming  past  masters. 

"  In  short,11  here  D—  -  paused  for  a  moment 
while  he  lifted  the  little  electric  heater  and  lighted 
a  fresh  cigarette  on  one  of  the  glowing  bars,  "in 
short,  I  studied  the  vermin  in  just  the  same  way  I 


A    DEPTH    CHARGE 


DISABLED    DESTROYER    IN    TOW 


PATROL 


189 


did  the  gophers  and  prairie-dogs  when  I  started  to 
exterminate  them  on  my  Kansas  farm.  I  found  out 
when  they  were  most  likely  to  come  up,  when  to 
stay  down;  what  things  attracted  them,  and  what 
repelled.  Then  I  went  after  them.  Of  course,  there 
was  no  chance  for  the  clean  sweep  I  made  of  the 
gophers  and  prairie-dogs,  but  we've  still  managed 
to  keep  our  own  little  section  of  the  beat  pretty 
clear. 

"  Having  satisfied  myself  regarding  the  Hun's 
penchant  for  stealing  up,  submerged,  to  gloat  over 
the  dying  agonies  of  his  victim,  it  seemed  to  me  that 
the  obvious  thing  to  do  was  to  lead  him  on  with  an 
imitation  death-agony,  and  then  have  a  proper  sur- 
prise waiting  for  him  when  he  came  up  to  gloat. 
The  first  thing  I  started  working  on  was  how  to 
4  burn  up  '  and  '  blow  up  '  with  sufficient  realism  to 
deceive  the  skipper  of  a  submerged  U-boat,  and  still 
be  in  shape  to  spring  an  effective  surprise  if  he 
could  be  tempted  into  laying  himself  open  to  it. 

"  My  first  plan  proved  too  primitive  by  far.  I 
reckoned  that  the  '  blowing-up  '  touch  might  be  pro- 
vided by  dropping  a  depth-charge,  and  that  of 
*  burning  up '  by  playing  my  searchlight  on  the 
surface  of  the  water  on  the  side  the  approach  was 
to  be  expected  from.  Neither  was  good  enough. 
The  '  can '  might  have  been  set  to  explode  on  the 
surface,  but  that  could  not  be  affected  without  run- 
ning the  chance  of  blowing  in  my  own  stern.  But 
the  bing  of  a  depth-charge  detonating  well  under 


SEA-HOUNDS 

the  water  is  quite  unmistakable,  and  the  first  U-- 
boat I  tried  to  lure  with  one  made  off  forthwith, 
plainly  under  the  impression  that  it  was  the  object 
of  an  active  attack.  As  for  the  searchlight,  I  saw 
that  it  wouldn't  do  the  first  time  I  went  down  and 
took  a  peep  at  a  trial  of  it  through  the  periscope  of 
one  of  our  own  submarines.  The  beam  did  cast 
a  patch  of  brightness  discernible  through  the  up- 
turned 'eye'  at  a  depth  of  from  sixty  to  eighty 
feet,  but  it  was  neither  red  enough  nor  fluttery 
enough  to  suggest  anything  like  a  burning  ship.  I 
set  to  work  to  devise  something  more  life-like,  with- 
out ever  waiting  for  a  chance  to  draw  a  Fritz 
with  it. 
"  First  and  last,  I  tried  a  goodly  variety  of  '  fire ' 

experiments,"  D continued,  snuggling  down  for 

a  moment  with  both  arms  under  the  blankets,  "  and 
I  don't  mind  admitting  that  I'd  like  to  have  a  few 
of  'em,  smoke  and  all,  flaming  up  all  over  this 
refrigerator  right  now.  The  thing  I  finally  decided 
to  try  consisted  of  nothing  more  than  a  light,  shal- 
low tank  of  ordinary  kerosene — paraffin  oil,  I  be- 
lieve they  call  it  here — made  fast  to  a  small, 
roughly  built  raft.  The  modus  operand i  was  as 
simple  as  the  contrivance  itself.  As  soon  as  a  U- 
boat  was  sighted,  the  raft  was  to  be  launched  on  the 
opposite  side,  and  kept  about  thirty  feet  out  by 
means  of  a  light  boom.  The  next  move  was  to  be 
up  to  Fritz,  and  it  was  fairly  certain  he  would  do 
one  of  two  things — submerge  and  make  off,  or  re- 


PATEOL  191 

main  on  the  surface  and  begin  to  shell  us.  In  the 
latter  case  we  were  to  start  firing  in  reply,  of 
course;  but  that  was  only  incidental  to  the  main 
plan.  This  was  to  wait  until  we  were  hit,  or,  pre- 
ferably, until  he  fired  an  '  over/  the  fall  of  which, 
on  account  of  his  low  platform,  he  could  not  spot 
accurately,  and  then  to  fire  the  tank  of  kerosene.  A 
line  to  a  trigger,  rigged  to  explode  a  percussion- 
cap,  made  it  possible  to  do  this  from  the  rail.  As 
the  flames,  besides  giving  off  a  lot  of  smoke,  would 
themselves  leap  high  enough  to  be  seen  from  the 
other  side,  it  was  reasonable  to  suppose  that  Fritz 
would  be  deluded  into  thinking  we  were  burning 
up,  and  make  his  approach  a  good  deal  more  care- 
lessly than  otherwise.  If  he  persisted  in  closing 
us  on  the  surface,  there  would  be  nothing  to  it  but 
to  make  what  fight  we  could  with  our  foVsl1  gun, 
and  try  to  make  it  so  hot  for  him  that  he  would  have 
to  go  down  before  his  heavier  shells  had  done  for 
us.  But  if,  following  his  usual  procedure,  he  made 
his  approach  submerged,  then  there  were  two  or 
three  other  little  optical  and  aural  illusions  pre- 
pared for  his  benefit.  I  will  tell  you  of  these  in  de- 
scribing how  we  actually  used  them." 

D—  -  lay  quiet  for  a  minute,  the  wrinkles  of  a 
baleful  grin  of  reminiscence  showing  on  both  sides 
of  the  aperture  of  the  Balaclava.  "  The  first  chance 
we  had  to  try  the  thing  out  it  nearly  did  us  in,"  he 
chuckled  presently.  "  No,  Fritz  had  nothing  to  do 
with  it.  He,  luckily  for  us,  submerged  and  beat  it 


192 


SEA-HOUNDS 


off  after  firing  three  or  four  shots — probably 
through  mistaking  the  smoke  of  a  couple  of  traw- 
lers just  under  the  horizon  for  that  of  destroyers. 
It  was  all  due  to  bad  luck  and  bad  judgment — prin- 
cipally the  latter,  I'm  afraid.  It  was  bad  luck  to 
the  extent  that  the  U-boat  was  sighted  down  to 
leeward,  so  that  there  was  no  alternative  but  to  put 
over  my  *  fire-raft '  on  the  windward  side.  The  bad 
judgment  came  in  through  my  underestimating  the 
force  of  the  wind  and  the  fierceness  with  which  the 
kerosene  would  burn  when  fanned  by  it,  Scarcely 
had  it  been  touched  off  before  there  was  a  veritable 
Flammen-ioerfer  playing  against  thirty  or  forty 
feet  of  the  windward  side,  and  in  a  way  which  made 
it  impossible  for  a  man  to  venture  there  to  cast  off 
the  wire  cables  which  moored  the  raft.  As  this 
class  of  M.L.s  have  wooden  hulls,  you  will  readily 
see  that  this  was  no  joke. 

"  The  splash  of  the  beam  seas  proved  an  effi- 
cacious antidote,  so  far  as  the  hull  was  concerned, 
however;  but  how  some  other  highly  inflammable 
material  I  was  carrying  'midships  escaped  being 
fired  in  the  minute  or  more  that  I  was  swinging  her 
through  sixteen  points  to  bring  the  raft  to  the  lee- 
ward of  her Well,  I  can  only  chalk  that  up  to 

the  credit  of  the  special  Providence  that  is  sup- 
posed to  intervene  especially  to  save  drunks  and 
fools.  You  can  bet  your  life  I  never  let  myself  be 
tempted  into  making  that  break  again,  though  it 
involved  a  trying  exercise  of  self-restraint  when  it 


PATROL  193 

chanced  that  the  very  next  Fritz  I  sighted  also  bore 
down  the  wind. 

"  The  two  or  three  U-boats  which  were  sighted 
in  the  course  of  the  next  five  or  six  weeks  ducked 
under  without  firing  a  shot,  and  I  was  beginning  to 
think  that  perhaps  they  had  somehow  got  wind  of 
my  little  plan  and  were  taking  no  chances  in  play- 
ing up  to  it.  Then,  one  fine  clear  morning,  up 
bobs  a  Fritz  about  six  thousand  yards  to  wind- 
ward, and  begins  going  through  his  part  of  the 
show  almost  as  though  he  was  one  of  our  own  sub- 
marines with  which  I  had  been  rehearsing.  His 
firing  at  us  was  about  as  bad  as  mine  at  him;  but 
he  finally  lobbed  one  over  that  was  close  enough, 
so  I  knew  he  couldn't  tell  whether  it  was  a  hit  or 
not,  and  on  that  I  touched  off  the  fire-raft,  which 
was  soon  spouting  up  a  fine  pillar  of  flame  and 
smoke.  To  discourage  his  approach  on  the  surface, 
I  kept  up  a  brisk  firing  to  give  him  the  impression 
that  we  were  going  to  live  up  to  British  Navy  tra- 
ditions by  going  down  fighting,  and  to  convince  him 
that  it  would  be  much  safer  to  close  under  water. 
This  came  off  quite  according  to  plan,  and  presently 
I  saw  the  loom  of  his  conning-tower  dissolve 
and  disappear  behind  the  spout  of  one  of  our 
shells,  which  looked  to  have  been  a  very  close 
thing. 

"  I  stood  on  at  a  speed  of  five  or  six  knots,  but 
on  a  course  which  I  reckoned  he  would  anticipate 
and  allow  for.  When  I  figured  that  he  was  not 


194 


SEA-HOUNDS 


over  a  mile  away,  I  dropped  a  float  over  the  stern 
with  a  time-bomb  attached  to  it,  the  detonation  of 
which  in  this  way  I  had  found  by  experiment  to 
furnish  a  much  more  life-like  imitation  of  an  in- 
ternal explosion  in  a  ship — when  heard  in  hydro- 
phones, I  mean — than  that  of  a  depth-charge.  The 
periscope  which  was  shortly  poked  cautiously  up 
for  a  tentative  '  look-see '  could  not,  I  am  pretty 
nearly  dead  certain,  have  revealed  anything  to  belie 
the  impression  I  had  laid  myself  out  to  convey- 
that  M.L.  —  -  was  an  explosion-riven,  burning, 
and  even  already,  probably  a  sinking  ship.  Besides 
the  gay  gush  of  flames  from  the  fire-raft,  which  must 
have  appeared  to  be  roaring  amidships,  lurid 
tongues  of  fire  were  also  spouting  out  of  the  forrard 
and  after  hatches,  and  from  several  of  the  ports; 
while  a  thirty-degree  list  to  starboard  might  well 
have  indicated  that  she  was  about  to  heel  over  and 
go  down.  I  had  looked  at  her  that  way  from  a 
periscope  myself,  while  I  was  studying  the  effect  of 
some  '  stage  property '  flares  in  comparison  with 
ordinary  gasoline  *  blow-torches/  and  knew  how 
much  she  looked  like  the  real  thing  even  when  you 
knew  she  wasn't.  The  list?  Oh,  that  was  a  very 
simple  matter.  This  class  of  M.L.s  is  never  on  an 
even  keel  for  long,  anyhow,  and  the  installation  of 
a  couple  of  tanks  made  it  possible  to  pump  water 
back  and  forth  and  give  her  any  heel  we  wanted. 
We  put  her  almost  on  her  beam  ends  when  we  were 
experimenting  on  the  thing,  and  without  upsetting 


PATROL  195 

things  much  outside  of  the  galley,  which  we  had 
Deglected  to  warn  of  what  devilry  was  afoot. 

"  If  we  didn't  look  helpless  and  harmless  enough 
for  any  Fritz  to  run  right  up  alongside  and  '  gloat 
over/  I'll  eat  my  hat;  and  that  was  what  I  was 
counting  on  this  fellow  doing.  Indeed,  I'll  always 
think  that  was  just  what  he  did  intend  to  do  even- 
tually; only  it  was  the  way  he  went  about  doing  it 
that  was  near  to  upsetting  the  apple-cart.  It 
seemed  reasonable  to  suppose  that  he  would  come 
up  and  do  his  gloating  on  the  side  he  approached 
from,  and  so  that  was  the  side  I  had  prepared  to 
receive  him  on.  The  heavy  list  she  was  under  to 
starboard  would  have  made  it  possible  to  bring  the 
gun  to  bear  on  him  until  he  was  almost  under  the 
rail,  and  then  there  would  be  a  chance  for  a  lance- 
bomb.  If  he  came  up  on  the  other  side  by  any 
chance,  I  had  figured  that  the  game  would  be  all 
up;  for  there  was  the  fire-raft  to  give  it  away, 
while  the  list  would  be  on  the  wrong  slant  to  give 
the  gun  a  show.  Well,  whether  it  was  accident  or 
intent,  that  is  just  what  he  did — broached  abeam  to 
port,  about  half  a  cable's  length  off  the  sizzling 
tank  of  flaming  kerosene. 

"  That  next  minute  or  two  "  (D sat  up  in  bed 

in  the  excitement  of  the  memory  of  that  stirring  in- 
terval,  and  I  felt  one  of  his  gesticulating  fists 
come  with  a  thump  against  the  bottom  of  my  mat- 
tress) "called  for  some  of  the  quickest  thinking 
and  acting  I  was  ever  responsible  for  pulling  off. 


196 


SEA-HOUNDS 


If  lie  stayed  up,  it  flashed  to  my  mind,  there  was 
just  the  chance  I  might  ram  him ;  while  if  he  ducked 
down,  there  would  probably  be  a  good  opening  for 
a  depth-charge.  I  rang  up  full  speed  at  the  same 
time  I  was  shouting  orders  to  cast  off  the  fire-raft, 
and  to  bash  in  one  end  of  the  starboard  *  tilting- 
tank  •  with  an  axe.  We  had  considered  the  pos- 
sibility of  this  emergency  arising,  as  much  as  we 
hoped  it  wouldn't,  so  that  no  time  was  lost  in 
meeting  it.  The  fire-raft,  boom  and  all,  was  cast 
off  clean,  and  quickly  left  astern.  In  scarcely  less 
time  was  the  tank  emptied,  though  the  sudden  flood 
from  it — it  was  on  the  upper  deck,  understand— 
came  very  near  to  carrying  overboard  the  man  who 
broached  it.  With  motors,  of  course,  we  were  run- 
ning all  out  in  '  two  jerks/  and  she  was  doing  sev- 
eral knots  over  twenty  when,  with  helm  hard-a- 
starboard,  she  began  rounding  on  the  startled 
Fritz. 

"  There  was  no  doubt  about  the  fact  that  he  was 
startled,  let  me  tell  you.  And,  when  you  think  of 
it,  it  must  have  been  a  trifle  disconcerting  to  see 
the  blown-up  and  burning  boat  he  had  come  up  to 
gloat  over,  and  perhaps  loot  before  she  went  down, 
suddenly  settle  back  on  an  even  keel  and  come 
charging  down  on  him  at  twenty-five  knots.  The 
'  moony '  fat  phizes  that  showed  above  the  rail  of 
the  bridge  were  pop-eyed  with  surprise — yes — and 
indecision,  too,  for  there  were  several  valuable  sec- 
onds lost  in  deciding  whether  to  come  on  up — she 


PATROL 


197 


Lad  risen  to  the  surface  with  only  an  <  awash ' 
trim — and  make  a  fight  with  her  gun,  or  to  dive. 

"  I  don't  think  it  would  have  made  a  great  deal 
of  difference  in  his  own  fate  which  he  did,  but  you 
can  bet  it  made  a  lot  of  difference  to  me.  I  don't 
mind  telling  you  that  I  was  never  gladder  about 
anything  in  my  life — at  least  anything  since  the 
rain  that  came  at  the  end  of  a  three-months' 
drought  to  save  my  corn-crop  a  few  years  back — 
than  when  those  moon-faces  went  into  eclipse  and 
I  saw  him  begin  to  submerge.  Although  it  had 
never  formed  a  part  of  any  plan  I  had  ever  worked 
out,  I  give  you  my  word  that  I  fully  intended  to 
ram  him,  and  that  would  have  meant — well,  about 
the  same  thing  as  one  airplane  charging  into 
another.  I  should  almost  certainly  have  finished 
him,  while  at  the  same  operation — but  I  don't  need 
to  tell  you  that  a  match-box  like  this  was  never 
made  for  bull-at-a-gate  tactics.  I've  never  heard  of 
one  of  this  class  of  M.L.s  getting  home  with  a  good 
square  butt  at  a  U-boat,  and  I'm  very  happy  to 
say  that  it  didn't  happen  on  this  occasion.  I  don't 
think  that  we  even  so  much  as  grazed  his  '  jump- 
string  ' ;  but  the  whole  length  of  him  was  in  plain 
sight  sloping  away  from  his  surface  swirl,  and  it 
was  easy  as  picking  ripe  pippins  to  plant  an  '  ash- 
can  '  just  where  it  was  needed.  The  only  aggrava- 
ting thing  about  it  was  that,  although  oil  came  boil- 
ing up  in  floods  for  three  days,  there  was  never  a 
Hun,  nor  even  an  unmistakable  fragment  of  U-boat 


198 


SEA-HOUNDS 


wreckage,  picked  up  as  a  souvenir.  There  was 
never  any  doubt  about  the  sinking,  however,  for 
the  trawlers  located  the  wreck  on  the  bottom  with 
a  sweep,  and  gave  it  a  few  more  '  cans '  for  luck. 

"  But  the  best  evidence  in  my  own  mind/'  con- 
cluded D ,  pulling  the  blankets  up  higher  over 

his  shoulders  as  he  settled  back  into  the  bunk,  "  is 
the  fact  that,  six  weeks  later,  the  identical  stunt  I 
had  tried  this  time  actually  lured  another  Fritz 
up  to  eat  out  of  my  hand  almost  exactly  as  I  had 
been  planning  for.  Now,  if  that  first  one  had  really 
survived  and  been  able  to  return  to  base,  it  is  cer- 
tain that  its  skipper  would  have  told  what  he  saw, 
and  that  there  would  have  been  a  general  order 
(such  as  came  out  some  months  later  when  they 
finally  did  twig  the  game)  warning  all  U-boats 
against  coming  up  to  gloat  at  close  range  over 
burning  M.L.s.  The  fact  that  this  second  one  was 
such  easy  picking  proves  beyond  a  doubt  that  the 
other  never  got  back." 

"  That  last  was  the  one  you  '  threw  the  hammer  ' 
at,  wasn't  it?  "  I  asked,  leaning  far  out  to  make  my 

words  carry  down  to  D 's  now  blanket-muffled 

ears. 

"  Yes,"  came  the  wool-dulled  answer.  "  Tell  you 
some  other  night.  Gotta  get  warm  now.  Toddy 
can's  empty.  Make  a  tent  of  the  blankets  with  your 
knees,  and  take  the  electric  heater  to  bed  in  it,  if 
you  can't  stop  shivering  any  other  way.  Good 
night." 


CHAPTER  IX 

"Q" 

A'  three  miles,  as  seen  from  the  bridge  of  the 
battleship,  the  small  craft  which  was  steer- 
ing a  course  that  would  bring  her  across  our 
bows  in  the  course  of  the  next  few  minutes  was 
absolutely  nondescript,  completely  defying  classi- 
fication. A  mile  closer,  however,  it  appeared  to  be 
as  plain  as  day  that  she  was  some  ancient  fishing 
boat,  but  bluffer  of  bow  and  broader  of  beam  than 
the  oldest  of  trawlers  or  drifters  in  the  service.  It 
was  only  when  she  was  right  ahead,  and  but  six  or 
eight  cables'  lengths  distant,  that  a  vagrant  sun- 
patch  came  dancing  along  the  leaden  waters  beyond 
her  to  form  a  scintiilant  background  against  which 
she  stood  out  as  what  she  was — the  sweetest-lined 
little  steam  yacht  that  ever  split  a  wave.  The  fish- 
ing-boat effect  had  been  obtained  by  a  simple 
arrangement  of  colours  which  effectually  clipped 
the  clippiness  from  her  clipper  bows  and  equally 
effectually  discounted  the  graceful  overhang  of  her 
counter. 

In  plain  words,  they  had  blocked  in  the  lines  of  a 
bluff,  squatty  tug  on  her  hull  with  some  kind  of 
paint  that  was  very  easy  to  see,  and  covered  the 

199 


200 


SEA-HOUNDS 


rest  of  her  with  a  paint  that  was  very  hard  to  see. 
A  few  changes  in  rig,  and  the  alteration  was  com- 
plete. 

"  Quite  the  cleverest  and  simplest  bit  of  camou- 
flage I  ever  saw,"  said  the  captain,  lowering  his 
binoculars.  "  It's  only  the  fact  that  we're  looking 
down  on  her  from  a  considerable  height  against 
that  bright  sheet  of  water  that  gives  a  chance  to 
follow  her  real  lines  at  all.  From  the  deck — and 
even  more  so  from  the  bridge  of  a  submarine,  or 
through  its  periscope — it  would  be  a  lot  easier  to 
tell  what  she  isn't  than  what  she  is.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  I  can't  say  that  I  know  what  she  is  even 
now.  It  is  evident  that  she  was  a  yacht,  and  no 
end  of  a  beauty  at  that.  But  now,  in  that  guise— 
probably  some  sort  of  patrol  or  anti-U-boat  worker, 
for  a  guess,  perhaps  a  *  Q/  ' 

The  officer  of  the  watch  turned  aside  for  a  mo- 
ment from  the  gyro  across  which  he  had  been  sight- 
ing. "  I  think  she  must  be  the  ' ,'  sir,"  he  said. 

"  Some  American  millionaire  had  her  in  the  Medi- 
terranean, and,  wanting  to  do  his  bit,  brought  her 
up  to  Portsmouth  and  turned  her  over  to  the  Ad- 
miralty to  do  what  they  wanted  with  her  so  long 
as  it  would  help  to  lick  the  Hun.  She's  been  mixed 
up  in  several  kinds  of  stunts,  and  is  supposed  to 
have  a  U-boat  or  two  to  her  credit.  Her  present 
skipper's  a  Yank  who  came  to  her  from  a  M.L. 
They  say  he's  no  end  of  a  character,  but  right  as 
rain  on  his  job  and  with  a  natural  nose  for  trouble. 


«  Q  "  201 

One  of  his  hobbies  is  making  his  ship  look  what 
she  isn't,  and,  in  order  to  see  her  as  she  would  ap- 
pear to  a  U-boat,  he  goes  out  and  studies  her 
through  the  periscope  of  one  of  our  own  sub- 
marines. When  one  of  these  isn't  handy,  he  some- 
times goes  out  in  a  whaler  and  studies  her  through 
a  stubby  periscope  poked  over  its  gunwale.  He 
got  blown  right  out  to  sea  one  night  when  he  was 
making  some  experiment  from  a  whaler  in  '  moon- 
light visibility,'  and  didn't  get  back  till  the  next 
morning.  It  had  no  effect  on  his  enthusiasm, 
though,  for  he  was  out  on  the  same  stunt  the  next 
night.  No  question  about  his  nerve,  nor  his  luck, 
nor  his  skill,  for  that  matter.  Smart  seamanship 
probably  has  as  much  to  do  with  the  fact  that  he 
has  never  been  torpedoed  as  has  his  fancy  camou- 
flage." 

I  made  up  my  mind  at  once  that  here  was  a  man 
worth  meeting  and  hearing  the  story  of,  but  as  the 
only  base  he  seemed  to  have  was  not  easy  to  reach, 
and  as  his  ship  was  reported  at  sea  on  the  only 
occasions  I  was  free  to  go  there,  some  weeks  went 
by  before  I  was  able  to  carry  out  my  plan  of  paying 
him  a  visit.  Then,  one  morning,  a  nondescript 
craft,  which  might  have  been  anything  from  a 
wood-pile  to  a  Chinese  junk  half  a  mile  away,  came 
nosing  inconsequentially  through  the  lines  of  the 
Grand  Fleet  and  moored  alongside  the  very  battle- 
ship in  which  I  happened  to  be  at  that  time. 

"  K has  come  in  with  the  ' '  to  *  swing 


202 


SEA-HOUNDS 


compasses/  "  the  navigating  officer  announced  to 
the  ward-room.  "  He's  a  *  converted  side-wheel 
river  ferry-boat '  this  morning,  or  something  of  the 
kind ;  and  he's  going  to  get  blown  to  sea  in  a  '  sud- 
den gale/  or  something  of  the  kind;  and  he  says 
that,  if  anyone  doesn't  believe  it,  to  come  aboard 
and  he'll  give  'em  something  to  stimulate  their 
*  stolid  British  imaginations.' ' 

As  certain  lockers  of  the  " "  had  not  been 

entirely  looted  of  their  age-mellowed  treasure  when 
the  yacht  was  dismantled  for  sterner  service  than 
lounging  about  limpid  Mediterranean  harbours, 
the  doubters  were,  naturally,  many ;  but  it  is  pleas- 
ant to  be  able  to  record  that  those  who  came  to  scoff 
remained — to  tea.  Indeed,  it  was  not  until  after 
tea  that  I  had  a  chance  for  a  half-hour's  yarn  alone 
with  K—  -  in  the  "  banquet-hall-deserted  "  splen- 
dour of  the  stripped  saloon.  It  was  then  that  he 
told  me  how  it  was  he  chanced  to  "come  across 
and  get  into  the  ganie.v 

He  used  the  latter  expression  several  times,  I 
remember,  and  to  no  one  that  I  can  recall  having 
met,  either  on  land  or  sea,  was  the  grim  work  he 
was  doing  more  of  a  "  game  "  than  to  this  brave, 
resourceful,  devil-may-care  Middle  Westerner. 

"  I  had  had  a  fair  bit  of  experience  in  yachting 
and  boating  during  the  last  six  or  eight  years  before 
the  outbreak  of  the  war,"  he  said,  settling  back  at 
ease  in  one  of  the  two  remaining  lounging-chairs, 
"  and  most  of  it  has  stood  me  in  good  stead  at  one 


«  Q  "  203 

time  or  another  since  I  have  been  on  the  job  over 
here.  I  sailed  a  single  sticker  on  Lake  Michigan 
for  a  number  of  seasons,  and  I  used  to  run  down 
from  my  home  in  Lake  Forest  to  business  in  Chi- 
cago in  my  own  motor-boat  on  and  off  during  the 
summer.  It  was  what  I  knew  of  the  latter  which 
got  me  on  a  '  M.L.'  without  any  preliminary  hang- 
ing about  when  I  first  came  over  early  in  the  war. 
What  I  knew  about  sailing  has  been  all  to  the  good 
almost  every  day  I  have  been  at  sea,  from  the  time 
I  lured  on  a  U-boat  by  ringing  up  my  i  M.L.'  as 
a  disabled  fishing-smack  to  the  time  when  I  had  to 
bring  this  poor  little  old  girl  into  port  under  can- 
vas after  I  had  knocked  out  her  propellers  with  one 
of  her  own  depth-charges."  It  was  a  fantastically 
amusing  tale,  that  last,  "  It  was  the  culmination 
of  my  experiments  in  scientific  camouflage,"  said 

K ,  with  a  baleful  smile.     "  Up  to  that  time 

any  contrivances  to  deceive  the  Hun  were  getting 
more  and  more  intricate  right  along;  since  then 
they  have  tended  more  and  more  toward  extreme 
simplicity.  It  was  this  way,  you  see,  that  I  hap- 
pened to  work  up  to  that  depth-charge  crescendo. 
From  the  first  I  had  been  striving  to  give  the  U-- 
boat mixed  impressions  of  me,  especially  on  the 
score  of  which  way  I  was  going.  This,  as  I  soon 
found  out  from  studying  the  thing  in  the  proper 
way,  is  much  easier  to  do  in  the  case  of  a  man 
whose  observation  is  limited  to  a  few  feet  above  the 
water  than  in  the  case  of  one  who  has  a  more  lofty 


204 


SEA-HOUNDS 


coign  of  vantage  to  con  from.  That  is  to  say,  it's 
much  easier  to  convey  false  impressions,  especially 
regarding  your  direction,  to  a  man  with  his  eye  to 
a  periscope  than  to  one  in  the  foretop  of  a  battle- 
ship, to  take  the  two  extremes.  Trying  now  one 
thing  and  now  another  as  I  had  more  experience, 
I  found  that  where  at  first  every  shot  fired  at  me 
was  directed  ahead  with  a  more  or  less  approxi- 
mate allowance  for  the  ship's  progress  in  that 
direction,  after  a  while  they  began  to  go  oftener 
and  oftener  astern,  indicating  they  were  confused 
as  to  my  rate  of  change.  It  was  just  as  I  was 
about  to  put  the  crowning  touch  on  my  efforts  in 
'  mixing  direction  '  that  the  trouble  occurred.  As 
the  experiments  with  this  particular  contrivance 
never  went  any  further,  there  will  hardly  be  any 
harm  in  my  telling  you  what  it  was  and  how  it 
worked. 

"  I  had  already,  with  the  aid  of  a  couple  of  slant- 
ing fins,  attached  something  after  the  fashion  of 
bilge-keels,  only  just  below  the  water-line  on  either 
quarter,  worked  up  a  fairly  satisfactory  '  bow 
wave '  aft,  and  I  was  endeavouring  to  supplement 
this  by  a  scheme  for  making  it  appear  as  though 
the  sky  was  moving  past  her  funnel  in  the  direction 
it  wasn't.  You  see,  I  was  working  on  the  same 
principle  which  deceives  you  when  you  think  the 
standing  train  you  are  in  is  in  motion  when  you 
see  the  one  on  the  next  track  start  up. 

"  As  the   U-boat  skipper's   *  look-see '   is   often 


"Q" 


205 


limited  to  a  hurried  sort  of  a  peep,  I  figured  that  if 
I  could  contrive  to  keep  a  rather  conspicuous  imita- 
tion sky  of  canvas  running  past  the  masts  and 
funnels  in  the  same  direction  she  was  going,  only 
faster,  it  might  create  the  illusion — in  the  dis- 
torted '  worm's  eye '  vision  of  the  man  at  the 
periscope — that  she  was  going  in  the  opposite 
direction.  I  studied  some  make-shift  rigs  from 
water-level  through  a  periscope,  and  made  up  my 
mind  the  scheme  was  worth  trying." 

K relighted  his  cigar  and  resumed  with  a 

sad  smile. 

"  I  still  think  the  idea  was  good,"  he  said,  "  but 
it  took  too  complicated  an  installation  to  carry  it 
out,  especially  on  a  small  craft  with  a  low  free- 
board. There  were  gearings  and  transmissions  and 
rollers,  and  heavens  knows  what  not,  needed  to 
make  the  endless  strip  of  canvas  '  sky '  run 
smoothly,  and  there  were  also  many  wires  and 
ropes.  It  was  one  or  the  other  of  the  latter  which 
was  responsible  for  the  disaster,  for  while  the  thing 
was  still  in  the  '  advanced  experimental '  stage  a 
U-boat  popped  up  close  by  one  day — probably  a 
bold  attempt  on  its  skipper's  part  to  see  if  he 
really  saw  what  he  thought  he  had  seen — and  I 
spun  the  '  -  '  around  on  her  tail  (one  of  the  nice 
things  about  her  is  that  she  will  turn  in  a  smaller 
circle  than  most  destroyers)  and  tried,  first  choice, 
to  ram  him,  and,  second  choice,  to  drop  a  depth- 
charge  down  the  hole  he  had  ducked  into.  I  was  too 


206  SEA-HOUNDS 

late  to  ram  by  a  few  seconds,  and  there  must  have 
been  a  good  fathom  or  two  of  clearance  between  my 
keel  and  the  conning-tower  I  had  driven  for.  The 
bridge  and  the  two  periscopes  he  had  <  turtle- 
necked  '  in  showed  clean  and  sharp  in  the  clear 
water  as  I  leaned  over  the  port  side  of  the  bridge— 
the  easiest  chance  a  man  ever  had  for  kicking  off 
a  *  can  '  just  where  it  ought  to  go.  As  I  turned  to 
the  depth-charge  release  I  already  had  visions  of 
him  falling  apart  like  a  cracked  egg,  with  bobbing 
bubbles  and  howling  Huns  coming  up  to  the  sur- 
face together.  It  was  only  a  couple  of  days  before 
that  I  had  picked  up  several  British  fishermen — 
all  that  were  left  alive  after  a  U-boat  skipper  had 
vented  his  morning  hate  by  shelling  the  boat  in 
which  they  were  leaving  their  sinking  trawler — 
and  I  was  still  mad  enough  to  want  to  ram  Heligo- 
land if  a  chance  had  offered.  I  felt  a  kind  of 
savage  joy  in  the  chance  to  put  that  tin  of  T.N.T. 
where  it  would  wipe  out  a  bit  of  the  score  I  had 
been  checking  up  against  the  Hun,  and  I  seemed 
to  see  a  sort  of  a  Hand  of  Fate  in  the  fist  I  was 
reaching  up  to  the  handle  of  the  release.  It 
couldn't  miss,  I  told  myself,  and — well,  it  didn't. 
"The  explosion  ' jolted'  at  the  proper  interval 
all  right,  but  not  in  the  proper  place,  nor  in  the 
proper  way.  I  was  watching  for  the  up-boil 
squarely  in  the  middle  of  the  right-angling  propel- 
ler swirl  of  the  submarine,  but  that  was  receding, 
smooth  and  unbroken,  when  the  crash  came.  The 


Q 


207 


fact  is,  I  never  did  see  the  spout  from  that  charge 
— for  the  very  good  reason  that  it  was  tossed  up 

almost    under    the    ' 's '    counter,    where    it 

knocked  off  the  blades  of  both  propellers  and  all 
but  blew  in  her  stern.  The  depth-charge  had 
fouled  a  trailing  wire  from  some  of  my  <  stage 
scenery  sky '  and  been  dragged  along  to  detonate 
close  astern.  I  saw  her  taffrail  shiver  and  kick  up- 
wards, and  the  shock  was  strong  enough  to  upset 
my  balance  even  on  the  bridge.  That  last  was  the 
first  thing  that  made  me  sure  something  had 
slipped  up,  for,  ordinarily,  the  jolt  from  a  properly 
set '  can '  is  no  more  than  that  from  a  sharp  bump 
against  the  side  of  a  quay.  I  mean  the  jolt  as  felt 
on  the  bridge,  of  course;  below,  and  especially  in 
the  engine-room  or  stokehold,  it  is  a  good  deal  more 
severe.  It  was  the  shattering  jar  of  this  one  that 
told  me  it  had  gone  wrong,  and  then,  when  she 
began  to  lose  way  and  refuse  to  answer  her  helm — 
the  rudder  had  been  knocked  out,  too,  but  not 
enough  so  that  it  couldn't  be  tinkered  up  to  serve 
temporarily — I  knew  it  was  something  serious. 

"  It  was  a  good  deal  of  a  relief  to  find  that,  badly 
buckled  as  some  of  the  plates  were,  she  wasn't  mak- 
ing any  more  water  aft  than  the  pumps  could  easily 
take  care  of.  That  was  the  first  thing  I  looked 
after,  and  the  next  was  the  U-boat;  or  rather,  we 
were  looking  out  for  both  at  the  same  time.  If 
there  was  one  thing  more  than  another  that  helped 
to  reconcile  me  to  the  double  disappointment  of 


208  SEA-HOUNDS 

missing  my  crack  at  the  Him  and  knocking  my  own 
ship  out,  it  was  the  fact  which  soon  became  ap- 
parent, that  Fritz  never  knew  about  the  latter.  If 
he  Tiad  known  the  shape  I  was  in,  he  could  have 
finished  me  off  a  dozen  times  over  during  the  hour 
or  more  the  '  -  '  was  lying  helpless,  and  before 
the  first  armed  trawler  showed  up  in  answer  to  my 
S.O.S.  Just  why  he  didn't,  I  could  never  make 
quite  sure,  but  the  chances  are  it  was  one  or  both 
of  two  things.  It  is  quite  possible  that  the  biff 
from  the  depth-charge — which  must  still  have  been 
almost  as  near  to  him  as  it  was  to  me  when  it  ex- 
ploded— may  have  done  the  submarine  really 
serious  injury,  perhaps  even  sinking  it.  We  never 
found  any  evidence,  however,  that  this  had  been 
the  case.  Whether  he  was  damaged  or  not,  there  is 
no  doubt  that  his  close  call  gave  him  a  bad  scare. 
There  could  have  been  nothing  in  the  explosion  to 
tell  him  that  it  did  any  harm  to  his  enemy,  and, 
since  he  did  not  have  his  periscope  up,  there  was 
no  way  he  could  see  what  had  happened.  Doubt- 
less expecting  another  '  can '  any  moment,  and 
knowing  well  that  it  would  be  only  a  matter  of  an 
hour  or  two  until  there  would  be  a  lot  more  craft 
joining  in  the  chase,  it  is  probable  that  he  followed 
the  tactics  which  you  can  always  count  on  a  U-boat 
following  when  it  knows  a  hunt  is  on — that  is, 
to  submerge  deeply  and  lose  no  time  in  making  it- 
self just  as  scarce  as  possible  in  the  neighbourhood 
where  the  hue-and-cry  has  started.  That's  the  only 


"Q" 


209 


way  I  can  account  for  the  fact  that  this  particular 
pirate  didn't  have  a  revenge  after  his  own  Hunnish 
heart.  We  were  about  evenly  matched  for  guns 
probably,  and  doubtless  I  would  have  had  rather 
better  than  an  even  break  on  that  score,  because  a 
surface  craft  can  stand  more  holing  than  a  sub- 
marine. But  there  was  nothing  to  prevent  his 
taking  a  sneaking  sight  through  his  periscope  from 
a  safe  distance  and  then  slipping  a  mouldie  at  us, 
which,  helpless  as  we  were  for  a  while,  there  would 
have  been  no  way  of  avoiding.  A  moving  ship  of 
almost  any  class,  provided  it  has  a  gun  to  make 
him  keep  his  distance,  has  a  good  fighting  chance 
of  saving  herself  from  being  torpedoed  by  the 
proper  use  of  her  helm;  a  disabled  ship,  though 
she  has  all  the  guns  in  the  world,  has  no  show  if 
the  Fritz  really  thinks  she's  worth  wasting  two  or 
three  torpedoes  on.  If  he  has  his  nerve,  and  any 
luck  at  all,  he  ought  to  finish  the  job  with  one. 

"  So  I  think  you'll  have  to  admit,"  said  K 

with  a  whimsical  smile,  "  that,  under  the  circum- 
stances and  considering  what  might  have  happened, 
I  felt  that  I  had  no  legitimate  kick  coming  in  hav- 
ing to  take  her  home  under  sail.  Fact  is,  I  con- 
sidered myself  in  luck  to  have  a  ship  to  take  home 
at  all.  The  rudder,  luckily,  though  a  good  deal 
bent  and  twisted,  had  not  been  blown  away.  It 
took  a  lot  of  nursing  to  turn  it,  and,  when  we  fin- 
ally got  her  off  under  mainsail,  forestaysail  and  jib, 
the  eccentricities  it  developed  took  a  lot  of  getting 


210 


SEA-HOUNDS 


used  to.  Although  it  was  quite  fortuitous  on  oui 
part,  the  course  we  steered  during  the  thirty  hours 
we  put  in  returning  to  base  was  the  most  complex 
and  baffling  lot  of  zigzagging  I  ever  had  anything  to 
do  with.  If  a  U-boat  skipper  lying  in  wait  for  us 
could  have  told  what  she  was  going  to  do  next,  I 
can  only  say  that  he  would  have  known  a  lot  more 
than  I  did. 

"  At  the  end  of  an  hour  or  two  a  couple  of  trawl- 
ers hove  in  sight  and  closed  us  to  be  of  what  help 
they  could  in  screening.  They  made  a  very  brave 
show  of  it  until  we  got  under  weigh,  and  then  they 
were  led  just  about  the  wooziest  dance  you  ever 
heard  tell  of.  By  a  lucky  chance,  for  me,  not  for 
the  trawlers,  there  was  a  spanking  breeze  on  the 
port  quarter  (for  the  mean  course  to  base,  I  mean) ; 
and  it  wasn't  long  before  the  little  old  girl,  even 
under  the  comparatively  light  spread  of  sail  on 
her,  was  slipping  away  at  close  to  nine  miles  an 
hour.  That  won't  surprise  you  if  you  noticed  the 
lines  of  her.  I've  turned  back  in  her  log  and  found 
where  she's  run  for  thirty-six  hours  at  fourteen 
miles,  even  with  the  drag  of  her  screws,  which  al- 
ways knock  a  knot  or  two  off  the  sailing  speed  of 
a  yacht  with  auxiliary  power. 

"  Well,  that  nine  miles  an  hour  was  a  good  bit 
better  than  those  trawlers  could  do  under  forced 
draught,  and  after  falling  astern  for  a  while,  they 
started  to  catch  up  by  shortening  their  courses  by 
cutting  my  zigzags.  That  was  where  the  fun  came 


"  Q  "  211 

in.  It  would  have  been  easy  enough  if  I  had  been 
zigzagging  according  to  Hoyle.  But  where  I  didn't 
know  myself  just  what  she  was  going  to  do  next, 
how  was  I  going  to  signal  it  to  them,  will  you  tell 
me?  About  every  other  time  that  they  tried  to 
anticipate  my  course  they  guessed  wrong,  and  were 
worse  off  than  before  as  a  consequence.  They 
must  have  been  a  very  thankful  pair  when  one  of 
the  two  destroyers  which  finally  came  up  took  them 
off  to  hunt  the  submarine.  The  other  destroyer 
stood  by  to  escort  me  in.  Her  skipper  offered  me 
a  tow,  but  I  was  anxious  to  save  face  as  much  as 
possible  by  returning  on  my  own,  and  so  declined. 
In  case  of  an  attack  it  would  have  been  better  to 
have  him  screening  than  towing  anyhow.  In  the 
end,  when  we  got  in  to  where  the  sea  room  was  re- 
stricted, I  was  glad  to  take  a  hawser  from  a  tug 
they  sent  to  meet  me  to  keep  from  putting  her  on 
the  mud. 

"  You  may  well  believe  that  effectually  put  an 
end  to  my  experiments  with  *  movable  sky,1  and 
other  similar  mechanical  complexities,"  K con- 
tinued with  a  laugh.  "  Indeed,  from  that  time  on 
I  have  been  inclining  more  and  more  to  simpler 
things,  rig  outs  that  are  sufficiently  free  from 
wheels  within  wheels  to  leave  the  mind  clear  for 
the  real  work  in  hand,  which,  after  all,  is  putting 
down  the  Hun,  not  merely  deceiving  him  as  to  what 
you  are.  You  see  how  simple  a  setting  our  present 
one  is;  yet  it  is  very  complete  in  its  way,  and  I 


212 


SEA-HOUNDS 


have  reasonable  hopes  of  success  with  it.  No,  I  can 
hardly  tell  you  just  what  I  am  driving  at  with  it, 
or  just  how  I  am  going  to  go  about  it.  In  a  month 
or  two,  when  its  possibilities  have  been  exhausted 
and  it  has  become  a  wash-out  perhaps  I  shall  be  a 
bit  freer  to  talk  about  it. 

"  Come  and  spend  a  day  or  two  with  me  at  the 
end  of  about  six  weeks,  when  my  present  round  of 
stunting  will  probably  be  over,  and  I'll  tell  you 
all  the  '  Q '  yarns  that  the  law  allows.  The  Hun 
is  dead  wise  to  the  game  on  principle,  so  there  can't 
be  any  point  in  keeping  mum  any  longer  on  stunts 
that  he's  twigged  a  year  or  so  ago,  and  which  you'd 
have  about  as  much  chance  of  taking  him  in  with 
as  you'd  have  in  trying  to  sell  a  gold  brick  on 
Broadway." 

Three  months  went  by  before  I  was  able  to  take 

advantage  of  K 's  invitation  to  pay  him  a  visit 

at  what  he  had  called  his  "  business  headquarters," 
and  as  I  had  naturally  expected  that  she  would  have 
played  many  and  diverse  parts  in  the  interim,  it 
was  with  some  surprise  that  I  found  the  "- 
still  "  dressed  "  as  she  had  been  when  I  last  saw 
her. 

"We've  never  quite  been  able  to  pull  it  off," 

K explained,  "  and  the  waiting,  and  the  not- 

quites  and  the  might-have-beens  have  given  me  no 
end  of  a  dose  of  that  kind  of  hope  deferred  which 
maketh  the  heart  sick.  But  we've  at  least  been 


"Q" 


213 


lucky  enough  not  to  queer  the  game  by  showing  our 
hand,  so  that  there's  still  as  good  a  chance  as  ever 
to  make  good  with  it  under  favourable  circum- 
stances. For  that  reason,  the  less  we  say  about  it 
for  the  present  the  better.  That's  in  regard  to 
this  particular  stunt,  I  mean.  As  for  the  rest  of  the 
*  Q '  stuff  that  we've  brought  off,  or  tried  to  bring 
off,  during  the  last  three  years — I'm  at  your  service 
to-night  after  dinner.  The  Germans  have  been 
publishing  accounts  of  some  of  the  stunts,  under 
the  title  of  '  British  Atrocities,'  for  some  months 
now,  but  as  there  are  slight  variations  from  the 
truth  here  and  there,  you  may  still  be  interested 
in  getting  some  of  the  details  a  bit  nearer  the  ori- 
ginal fount. 

"  They  claimed,  for  instance,  that  when  one  of 
their  '  heroic '  U-boats  ran  alongside  an  armed 
British  patrol  boat,  which  had  surrendered  to  it, 
to  transfer  a  boarding-party,  an  officer  of  the 
M.L.  rushed  on  deck  and  threw  down  on  the  deck 
of  the  submarine  what  the  skipper  of  the  latter  took 
to  be  a  packet  of  secret  books,  and  that  this 
'packet/  exploding,  eventually  resulted  in  the 
sinking  of  the  guileless  German  craft.  Now,  about 
the  only  thing  which  is  correct  about  that  account 
is  the  statement  that  a  U-boat  was  sunk.  It  wasn't 
an  armed  M.L.  that  surrendered  to  Herr  Ober- 
Lootenant — armed  M.L.'s  don't  do  that  sort  of 
thing,  take  my  word  for  it — but  an  unarmed,  or 
practically  unarmed,  pleasure  yacht,  which  had 


214 


SEA-HOUNDS 


apparently  become  disabled  and  blown  to  sea. 
And  the  trusting  U-boat  did  not  corne  alongside  to 
put  aboard  a  prize  crew  to  navigate  its  captive  to 
a  German  port  as  they'd  try  to  make  you  believe, 
but  only  to  sink  it  with  bombs  placed  in  the  hold, 
eo  as  to  save  shells  or  a  torpedo.  And  it  wasn't  a 
packet  of  secret  books  that  put  the  pirate  down, 
but  a  '  baby,'  and  my  baby  at  that.  No,  I  don't 
mean  that  I  threw  a  real  child  of  mine  to  Moloch— 
I  haven't  any  to  throw — but  only  that  the  idea  of 
this  literal  enfant  terrible,  with  a  percussion  cap 
on  the  top  of  his  head  and  a  can  of  T.N.T.  for  a 
body,  originated  under  my  hat. 

"  It's  not  surprising  that  the  Huns  didn't  get 
the  thing  straight  at  first,  though  I  believe  one  of 
their  later  versions  does  have  a  child  in  the  cast, 
for  none  of  the  Germans  present  have  yet  returned 
to  tell  just  what  happened.  About  half  of  them 
never  will  see  their  beloved  <  Vodderland '  again, 
and  I  don't  mind  telling  you  that  I'm  not  wearing 
any  crepe  on  my  sleeve  on  that  account,  either. 

Do  you  know  " — K 's  face  flushed  red  and  his 

brow  contracted  in  the  anger  the  thought  aroused 

— "  that  those pirates  were  going  right  ahead 

to  sink  what  they  thought  was  nothing  but  a  pleas- 
ure yacht,  with  a  number  of  women  and  children 
in  it,  although  it  was  plain  as  day  to  them  that 
the  one  boat  carried  would  founder  under  a  quarter 
of  our  number?  That's  your  Hun  every  time,  and 
it  was  just  that  insensate  lust  of  his  to  murder 


"Q" 


215 


anything  helpless  that  I  reckoned  on  in  baiting  my 

trap.    I  felt  dead  certain But  I'll  tell  you  the 

whole  yarn  this  evening." 


Several  bits  of  salvage  from  the 


's '*  pleas- 


ure-yacht days  figured  in  the  little  feast  K 

had  spread  that  evening,  and  I  remember  parti- 
cularly that  the  Angostura  was  from  a  bottle  Com- 
modore P had  himself  secured  at  the  time 

when  that  incomparable  bitter  was  distilled  in  a 
little  ramshackle  pile-built  factory  at  Ciudad  Boli- 
var, on  the  upper  Orinoco.  And  the  coffee  that 
same  genial  bon  vivant  had  had  blended  and  sealed 
in  glass  by  an  old  Arab  merchant  at  Aden,  while 
the  Benedictine  had  cost  him  a  climb  on  foot 
through  an  infernally  hot  August  afternoon  to  an 
ancient  monastery  inland  of  Naples.  It  was  be- 
tween sips  of  Benedictine — from  a  priceless  little 
Morning  Glory-shaped  curl  of  Phoenician  glass, 
picked  up  in  Antioch  one  winter  by  the  owner,  and 
overlooked  in  the  "stripping"  operations — that 

K told  me  the  story  of  the  first  of  what  he 

called  his  "  Q-rious  "  operations. 

"  There  was  a  story  attached  to  just  about  every 

little  package  of  food  and  drink  P left  in  the 

yacht,"  said  K ,  unrolling  the  gold  foil  from  a 

cigar  whose  band  bore  the  name  of  a  PiSar  del  Rio 
factory  which  is  famed  as  accepting  no  order  save 
from  its  small  but  highly  select  list  of  private  cus- 
tomers in  various  parts  of  the  world ;  "  and  in  the 
several  letters  he  has  written  begging  me  to  make 


216 


SEA-HOUNDS 


free  with  them  he  has  told  me  most  of  the  yarns. 
The  consequence  was  that,  while  the  good  things 
lasted — they're  most  of  them  finished  now — I  was 
getting  in  the  way  of  enjoying  eating  and  drinking 
them,  telling  wrhere  they  came  from  and  howT  they 
were  come  by,  just  about  as  much  as  good  old  P— 
himself  must  have  done.  In  fact,  I  think  that  their 
possible  loss  wras  about  my  worst  worry  when  I 
tried  my  first '  Q  '  stunt  on. 

"  The  success  of  any  kind  of  stunt  for  harrying 
the  U-boat  is  very  largely  a  matter  of  psychology, 
and  this  is  especially  so  in  the  '  Q '  department. 
The  main  point  of  it  is  to  make  the  enemy  think 
you  are  more  harmless  than  you  really  are.  There 
is  nothing  new  in  the  idea,  for  it  is  precisely  the 
same  stunt  the  old  pirate  of  the  Caribbean  was  on 
when  he  concealed  his  gun-ports  with  strips  of  can- 
vas and  approached  his  victims  as  a  peaceful  mer- 
chantman. As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  think  it  was  the 
Hun  himself  who  started  the  game  in  this  war,  for 
I'm  almost  dead  sure  that  we  had  tried  nothing 
of  the  kind  on — in  a  systematic  way,  at  any  rate- 
up  to  the  time  one  of  his  U-boats  rigged  up  a  mast 
and  sails  and  lured  on  victims  by  posing  as  a 
fisherman  in  distress. 

"  Obviously,  it's  a  game  you  can't  use  any  kind 
of  craft  that  is  plainly  a  warship  in,  and  the  burn- 
ing question  always  is  as  to  how  far  you  will 
sacrifice  punishing  power  to  harmlessness  of  ap- 
pearance. A  light  gun  or  two  is  about  as  far  as  you 


Q 


217 


can  go  in  the  way  of  shooting-irons,  and  even  these 
are  very  difficult  to  conceal  on  a  small  boat.  Like- 
wise a  torpedo  tube.  I  tried  that  first  stunt  of 
mine  without  either,  and  that's  where  the  psychol- 
ogy came  in. 

"  Most  of  the  '  Q-boats '  they  were  figuring  on  at 
that  time  were  of  the  slower  freighter  type,  with 
a  rather  powerful  gun  mounted  for'ard  and  con- 
cealed as  well  as  possible  by  something  rigged  up 
to  look  like  deck  cargo. 

"  That  was,  however,  all  well  and  good  as  far 
as  it  went,  I  figured,  but,  from  such  study  of  the 
Hun's  little  ways  as  I  had  been  able  to  make,  I  had 
my  doubts  as  to  whether  an  old  cargo  boat  would 
prove  tempting  enough  bait  to  put  a  Fritz  in  the 
proper  mental  state  for  a  real '  rise ' — one  in  which 
he'd  deliver  himself  up  to  you  bound  and  gagged,  so 
to  speak.  That  was  the  kind  of  a  thing  I  wanted 
to  make  a  bid  for,  and,  by  cracky,  I  pulled  it  off. 

"  From  all  I  could  pick  up,  from  the  inside  and 
outside,  about  the  ships  that  had  already  been  tor- 
pedoed, I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  Hun 
would  go  to  a  lot  more  trouble,  and  take  a  deal 
bigger  chance,  to  put  down  a  vessel  with  a  number 
of  passengers  than  he  would  with  a  freighter.  And 
even  that  early  in  the  War  a  U-boat  had  exposed 
itself  to  being  rammed  by  a  destroyer,  when  it 
could  have  avoided  the  attack  entirely  by  foregoing 
the  pleasure  of  a  Parthian  shot  at  a  lifeboat  which 
was  already  half-swamped  in  the  heavy  seas.  That 


218 


SEA-HOUNDS 


was  the  little  trait  of  the  Hun's  that  I  reckoned  on 
playing  up  to  when  I  began  to  figure  on  taking  the 

< '  out  U-boat  strafing  without  any  gun  larger 

than  a  Maxim  aboard  her.  I'd  have  been  glad 
enough  of  a  good  four-incher,  understand,  if  there 
had  been  any  way  in  the  world  it  could  have  been 
concealed.  But  there  wasn't,  and  rather  than  miss 
getting  into  the  game  at  all,  I  was  quite  content  to 
tackle  it  with  such  weapons  as  were  available. 
That  was  where  my  '  che-ild '  came  in. 

"  On  the  score  of  weapons  available,  there  were 
only  two — the  lance-bomb  and  the  depth-charge. 
For  the  kind  of  game  I  had  in  mind,  it  was  to  the 
former  that  I  pinned  my  faith.  It  was  powerful 
enough  to  do  all  the  damage  needful  to  the  shell 
of  a  submarine  if  only  a  chance  to  get  home  with 
it  could  be  contrived.  *  Getting  it  home'  has  al- 
ways been  the  great  difficulty  with  the  lance-bomb, 
and  up  to  that  time  the  only  chap  to  have  any  luck 
with  it  was  the  skipper  of  a  M.L. — another  Yank, 
by  the  way,  who  came  over  and  got  into  the  game 
in  the  same  way,  and  about  the  same  time,  that  I 
did.  He  had  been  the  champion  sixteen-pound 
hammer-thrower  in  some  Middle  Western  college 
only  a  year  or  two  before,  and,  by  taking  a  double 
turn  on  his  heeling  deck,  managed  to  chuck  the 
bomb  (which  is  on  the  end  of  a  wooden  handle, 
much  like  the  old  throwing  hammer)  about  three 
times  as  far  as  anyone  ever  dreamed  of,  and  cracked 
in  the  nose  of  a  lurking  U-boat  with  it. 


219 

"  Unluckily,  I  was  not  a  hammer-thrower,  and 
so  had  to  try  to  bring  about  an  easier  shot.  It  was 
with  this  purpose  in  view  that  I  submitted  a  pro- 
posal to  reconvert  the  ' '  temporarily  to  the 

outward  seeming  of  a  pleasure  yacht;  to  make  her 
appear  so  tempting  a  bait  that  the  Hun's  lust  for 
schrecklichkeit,  or  whatever  they  call  it,  would  lure 
him  close  enough  to  give  me  a  chance  at  him. 
They  were  rather  inclined  to  scoff  at  the  plan  at 
first,  principally  on  the  ground  that  the  enemy, 
knowing  that  there  was  no  pleasure  yachting  going 
on  in  the  North  Sea,  would  instantly  be  suspicious 
of  a  craft  of  that  character.  I  pointed  out  that 
there  was  still  a  bit  of  yachting  going  on  in  the 
Norfolk  Broads,  which  the  Hun,  with  his  compre- 
hensive knowledge  of  the  East  Coast,  might  well 
know  of,  and  that  there  would  be  nothing  strange 
in  a  craft  from  there  being  blown  to  sea  in  a  spell 

of  nor'west  weather.  Of  course,  the  * '  isn't 

a  Broads  type  by  a  long  way,  but  I  didn't  expect 
the  Hun  to  linger  over  fine  distinctions  any  more 
than  the  trout  coming  up  for  a  fly  does.  The  sequel 
fully  proved  that  I  was  right. 

"  It  was  largely  because  the  stunt  I  had  in  mind 
promised  to  cost  little  more  than  a  new  coat  of 
paint  and  a  few  rehearsals,  which  could  easily  be 
carried  on  in  the  course  of  our  ordinary  patrol 
duties,  that  I  finally  received  somewhat  grudging 
authorisation  to  go  ahead  with  it.  It  was  not  till 
the  whole  show  was  over  that  I  learned  from  the 


220 


SEA-HOUNDS 


laughing  admission  of  the  officer  who  helped  secure 
that  authorization,  that  the  fact  that  the  output 
of  real  M.L.'s  was  becoming  large  enough  so 
that  they  were  about  independent  of  the  use  of 
yachts  and  other  pleasure  craft  for  patrol  work, 
also  had  a  good  deal  to  do  with  the  granting 
of  it. 

"  I  already  had  several  well-trained  machine- 
gunners  in  the  crew,  so  that  about  the  only  addi- 
tion I  had  to  make  to  the  ship's  company  was  a 
half-dozen  boys  to  masquerade  as  ladies.  As  they 
were  not  meant  to  stand  inspection  at  close  range, 
nothing  elaborate  in  the  way  of  costume  or  make- 
up was  necessary.  They  wore  middy  jackets,  with 
short  duck  skirts,  which  gave  them  plenty  of  liberty 
of  action.  Most  of  them  (as  there  was  nothing 
much  below  the  waist  going  to  show  anyway)  sim- 
ply rolled  up  their  sailor  breeches  and  went  bare- 
legged, and  one  who  went  in  for  white  stockings  and 
tennis  shoes  was  considered  rather  a  swanker. 
Their  millinery  was  somewhat  variegated,  the  only 
thing  in  common  to  the  motley  units  of  head-gear 
being  conspicuousness.  There  was  a  much  berib- 
boned  broad-brimmed  straw,  a  droopy  Panama,  a 
green  and  a  purple  motor  veil,  and  a  very  chic 
yachting  effect  in  a  converted  cap  of  a  lieutenant 
of  Marines  with  a  red  band  round  it.  Less  in  keep- 
ing, if  more  striking,  was  a  Gainsborough,  with 
magenta  ostrich  plumes,  a  remnant  from  some 
'  ship '  theatricals. 


221 


"  Hair  wasn't  a  very  important  item,  but  they 
all  seemed  to  take  so  much  pleasure  in  '  coiffeur- 
ing  '  that  I  took  good  care  not  to  discourage  their 
efforts  in  that  direction.  The  spirit  that  you  enter 
that  kind  of  a  game  in  makes  all  the  difference  in 
the  world  in  its  success,  and  these  lads — and,  in- 
deed, the  whole  lot  of  us — were  like  children  play- 
ing house.  All  of  them  were  blondes — even  a  boy 
born  in  Durban,  who  had  more  than  a  touch  of  the 
'  tar  brush,'  and  one — a  roly-poly  young  Scot,  who 
had  made  himself  a  pair  of  tawny  braids  from  rope 
ravellings — looked  like  a  cross  between  i  Brunn- 
hilde '  and  '  The  Viking's  Daughter.' 

"  It  was  only  during  rehearsals,  of  course,  that 
these  lads  were  <  ladies  of  leisure.'  The  rest  of  the 
time  I  kept  them  on  brass  polishing  and  deck-scrub- 
bing, with  the  result  that  the  little  old  < ' 

regained,  outwardly  at  least,  much  of  her  pristine 
ship-shapiness.  The  '  gentlemen  friends '  of  the 
'  ladies  '  wrere  even  more  of  a  <  make-ship  '  product 
than  the  latter. 

"  Indeed,  they  were  really  costumes  rather  than 
individuals.  I  don't  mean  that  we  used  dummies, 
but  only  that  there  were  eight  or  ten  flannel  jackets 
and  boater  hats  laid  ready,  and  these  were  to  be 
worn  more  or  less  indiscriminately  by  any  of  the 
regular  crew  not  on  watch.  Their  role  was  simply 
to  loll  on  the  quarterdeck  with  the  '  ladies '  while 
the  U-boat  was  sizing  us  up,  then  to  join  for  a  few 
minutes  in  the  ' panic'  following  the  hoped-for 


SEA-HOUNDS 

attack,  and  finally  to  beat  it  to  their  action  sta- 
tions. 

"  That  a  '  baby '  was  by  far  the  most  effective 
disguise  for  the  first  lance-bomb  we  hoped  to  chuck 
home  was  obvious  at  the  outset.  Both  of  them 
had  heads,  their  general  shapes  (when  dressed) 
were  not  dissimilar,  while  the  '  long  clothes '  of 
the  infant  was  found  to  have  a  real  steadying  effect 
on  the  missile,  on  the  same  principle  that  '  stream- 
ers '  act  to  bring  an  air-bomb  down  nose-first.  Of 
course,  a  child  in  arms,  like  this  one  was  to  be, 
wasn't  just  the  kind  of  thing  one  would  take  pleas- 
ure yachting;  but  I  knew  the  Huns  took  their  nurs- 
lings to  beer  gardens,  and  thought  that  that  might 
make  them  think  that  the  Englanders — who  were 
incomprehensible  folk  anyhow — might  take  this 
strange  way  of  accustoming  their  young  to  the 
waves  which  they  sang  so  loudly  of  ruling. 

"The  decisive  consideration,  however,  was  the 
fact  a  baby  was  the  only  thing  except  a  jewel-case 
that  a  panicky  woman  in  fear  of  being  torpedoed 
would  stick  to.  As  you  can't  get  a  lance-bomb 
in  a  jewel-case,  it  was  plainly  '  baby '  or  noth- 
ing. 

"  In  the  end,  because  I  was  afraid  that  none  of 
the  feminine  make-ups  was  quite  good  enough  not 
to  awaken  suspicion  at  close  range — I  decided  that 
the  heaving  over  of  the  '  baby '  should  be  done  by 
a  *  gentleman  '  instead  of  by  a  *  lady.'  As  one  of 
the  seamen  put  it,  it  was  only  <  nateral  that  the 


«  Q  "  223 

nipper's  daddy  'ud  be  lookin'  arter  'im  in  time  of 
danger/  and  I  had  read  of  sailors  being  entrusted 
with  children  on  sinking  ships.  The  man  I  picked 
for  the  job — the  '  father  of  the  che-ild,'  as  he  soon 
came  to  be  called — was  not  the  one  who  had  proved 
the  best  in  distance  throwing  in  the  trials,  but 
rather  one  on  whose  cold-blooded  nerve  I  knew  I 
could  count  in  any  extremity. 

"  He  was  a  Seaman  Gunner,  named  R ,  and 

was  lost  a  year  ago  when  a  rather  desperate  '  Q ' 
stunt  he  had  volunteered  for  miscarried.  He  had 
just  the  touch  of  the  histrionic  desirable  for  the  in- 
timate little  affair  in  question,  and  the  way  he 
played  his  part  fully  justified  my  selecting  him.'' 

K leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  blew  smoke 

rings  for  a  minute  before  resuming  his  story. 
"  There  are  some  kind  of  stunts,  like  this  one  I've 
been  trying  to  bring  off  for  the  last  two  or  three 
months,"  he  said,  "  that  always  seem  to  hang  fire; 
and  there  are  others  where,  from  first  to  last,  every- 
thing comes  up  to  the  scratch  on  time,  just  like  a 
film  drama.  That  first  one  I'm  telling  you  about 
was  like  that,  everybody — even  to  the  U-boat — 
coming  on  to  its  cue.  Indeed,  when  I  think  of  it 
now,  the  whole  show  seems  more  like  a  big  movie 
than  anything  else. 

"  By  the  time  we  were  letter  perfect  in  our  parts, 
there  came  two  or  three  days  of  just  the  kind  of  a 
storm  I  wanted  to  make  a  good  excuse  for  a  dinky 
little  pleasure  boat  being  out  in  the  middle  of  the 
North  Sea.  I  took  care,  of  course,  to  be  *  blown  ' 


224  SEA-HOUNDS 

to  the  last  position  at  which  an  enemy  submarine 
had  been  reported. 

"  Then,  where  a  destroyer  or  a  M.L.  might  have 
cruised  round  for  a  month  without  sighting  any- 
thing but  fog  and  the  smoke  of  some  of  our  own 
ships  on  the  horizon,  we  picked  up  a  Fritz  running 
brazenly  on  the  surface  the  first  morning.  That 
was  first  blood  for  my  harmless  appearance  right 
there,  for  he  must  have  seen  us  some  time  previously 
of  course,  and  had  we  looked  in  the  least  warlike, 
would  have  submerged  before  even  our  lookout 
spotted  his  conning-tower. 

"As  it  was,  he  simply  began  closing  us  at  full 
speed,  firing  as  he  came.  It  was  rotten  shooting  at 
first,  as  shooting  from  the  very  poor  platform  a  sub- 
marine affords  usually  is,  but,  at  about  three  thou- 
sand yards,  he  put  a  shell  through  the  fo'c'sl', 
luckily  above  the  water-line.  The  next  minute  or 
two  was  the  most  anxious  time  I  had,  for,  if  he 
made  up  his  mind  to  do  it  that  way,  there  was 
nothing  to  prevent  his  sticking  off  there  and  putting 
us  down  with  shell-fire. 

"  Perhaps  if  the  two  or  three  shots  which  fol- 
lowed had  been  hits,  that  is  what  he  would  have 
done.  It  was  probably  his  disgust  at  the  fact  that 
they  were  all  ( overs '  that  determined  him  to  close 
in  and  finish  the  job  with  bombs.  Possibly,  also, 
the  fact  that  I  appeared  to  be  starting  to  abandon 
ship  at  this  juncture  convinced  him  finally  that  the 
yacht  had  no  fight  in  her,  and  it  may  well  be  that 


"  Q  "  225 

the  temptation  to  loot  liad  something  to  do  with 
his  decision.  I  could  never  make  quite  sure  on 
those  points,  for  Herr  Skipper  never  confided  what 
was  in  his  mind  to  the  one  officer  who  survived  him. 
At  any  rate,  he  came  nosing  nonchalantly  in  and 
did  just  what  I  had  been  praying  for  the  last  month 
he  would  do — poked  right  up  alongside.  The  heavy 
sea  that  had  been  running  for  the  last  two  or  three 
days  had  gone  down  during  the  night,  so  that  he 
was  able  to  stand  in  pretty  close  without  running 
much  danger  of  bumping. 

"  The  extent  of  my  abandoning  ship  had  been  to 
follow  the  old  sea  rule  of  saving  the  women  and 
children  first.  Or  rather,  we  put  the  women  off  in 
our  only  boat;  the  baby,  I  won't  need  to  tell  you, 
was  somehow  '  overlooked.'  The  boat  was  lowered 
in  full  view  of  the  Hun,  who  was  about  fifteen 
hundred  yards  distant  at  the  moment,  and  there 
was  a  little  unrehearsed  incident  in  connection 
with  it  that  must  have  done  its  part  in  convincing 
him  that  what  he  was  witnessing  was  a  genuine 
piece  of  '  abandon/  One  of  the  girls — it  was  the 
blonde  '  Brunnhilde/  I  believe — not  wanting  to  miss 
any  of  the  fun,  started  to  hang  back  and  tried  to 
bluff  them  into  letting  her  stay  by  swearing  that 
she'd  rather  face  the  Hun  than  desert  her  child. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  '  Gainsborough '  had  more 
claim  on  the  kid  than  '  Brunnhilde/  for  she — I 
mean  he — had  cadged  its  clothes  from  a  sweetheart 
who  worked  in  a  draper's  shop.  If  I  had  been  there 


226  SEA-HOUNDS 

personally,  I'm  afraid  '  Brunnhilde's '  little  bluff 
would  have  won  through,  for  a  man  whose  wits  are 
keen  enough  to  spring  a  joke  at  a  crisis  has  always 
made  an  especial  appeal  to  me.  To  the  bo'sun, 
however,  orders  were  orders,  and  his  answer  to 
the  recalcitrant  blonde's  insubordination  was  to 
rush  her  to  the  rail  by  the  slack  of  her  middy 
jacket,  and  to  help  her  over  it  with  the  toe  of  his 
boot. 

"  The  <  K 's  '  low  freeboard  made  the  drop  a 

short  one,  and,  luckily,  '  Brunnhilde '  missed  the 
gun'nel '  of  the  whaler  and  landed  gently  in  the 
water,  from  where  she  was  dragged  by  the  ready 
hands  of  her  sisters  a  few  moments  later.  They  do 
say,  though,  that  she  turned  a  complete  flip-flop  in 
the  air,  and  that  there  was  a  display  of — well,  if  a 
Goerz  prism  binocular  won't  reveal  the  difference 
between  a  pair  of  blue  sailor's  breeches  and  French 
lingerie  at  under  a  mile,  all  I  can  say  is  that  we've 
much  overrated  German  optical  glass.  As  I  learned 
later,  however,  the  Huns,  observing  only  the  fall 
and  missing  the  revealing  details,  merely  con- 
cluded that  the  Englanders  were  jumping  over- 
board in  panic,  and  dismissed  their  last  lingering 
doubts  and  suspicions. 

"The  girls  were  already  instructed  that  they 
were  to  lie  low  and  keep  their  peroxide  curls  out  of 
sight  as  long  as  they  were  within  a  mile  or  so  of 
the  submarine,  so  as  not  to  tempt  the  latter  to  fol- 
low them  up  for  a  look-see  at  closer  range.  The 


"Q" 


227 


boat  had  orders  to  pull  astern  for  a  while,  and  then, 
if  the  Hun  was  observed  to  come  alongside  the 

' '  as  hoped,  to  turn  eight  or  ten  points  to  port 

and  head  up  in  the  direction  from  which  he  had 
appeared.  The  reason  for  this  manoeuvre,  which 
was  carried  out  precisely  as  planned,  you  will 
understand  in  a  moment. 

"  On  came  Fritz,  coolly  contemptuous,  and  on 
went  the  show,  like  the  unrolling  of  a  movie  scen- 
ario. For  a  while  I  was  fearful  that  he  might  order 
back  my  boat  to  use  in  boarding  me  with,  but  as 
soon  as  he  was  close  enough  to  be  sure  that  I  had 
no  gun  he  must  have  decided  so  much  trouble  was 
superfluous.  He  had  only  one  gun,  it  was  evident 
— the  gunners  kept  sweeping  it  back  and  forth  to 
cover  from  about  the  bridge  to  the  engine-rooom  as 
they  drew  nearer — and  presently  I  saw  men,  armed 
with  short  rifles,  coming  up  through  both  fore  and 
after  hatches.  Far  from  exhibiting  any  signs  of 
belligerency,  I  still  kept  three  or  four  of  my  *  flan- 
nelled fools '  mildly  panicking.  Or,  rather,  I 
ordered  them  to  panic  mildly.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
they  did  it  rather  violently — a  good  deal  more  like 
movie  rough  stuff  than  the  real  thing. 

"  Little  difference  it  made  to  Fritz,  though,  who 
seemed  to  take  it  quite  as  a  matter  of  course  that 
the  British  yachtsman  should  show  his  terror  like 
a  Wild  West  film  drama  heroine.  On  he  stood,  and 
when  he  came  within  hailing  distance,  a  burly 
ruffian  on  the  bridge — doubtless  the  skipper — 


228  SEA-HOUNDS 

shouted  something  in  guttural  German-EnglisH 
which  I  never  quite  made  out,  but  which  was  prob- 
ably some  kind  of  warning  or  other.  I  don't  think 
I  saw  any  of  my  crew  exactly  '  Kamerading',  but 
I  needn't  tell  you  that  every  man  in  sight  was  doing 
his  best  to  register  '  troubled  passivity  ',  or  some- 
thing like  that.  I  had  anticipated  that  I  might  not 

be  in  a  position  to  signal  his  cue  to  R ,  and  so 

had  arranged  that  he  should  keep  watch  from  a 
cabin  port,  and  to  use  his  own  judgment  about  the 
time  of  his  '  entrance.'  I  was  afraid  to  have  him  on 
deck  all  the  time  for  fear  the  <  che-ild  '  might  be  sub- 
jected to  too  careful  a  scrutiny.  R wras  just  in 

flannels,  understand,  so  there  was  nothing  sus- 
picious in  his  own  appearance.  He  did  both  his 
play-acting  and  his  real  acting  to  perfection,  neither 
overdoing  nor  underdoing  one  or  the  other. 

"  The  U-boat  was  close  alongside,  rapidly  easing 
down  under  reversed  propellers,  before  R—  -  ap- 
peared, just  as  natural  an  anguished  father  with  a 
child  as  you  could  possibly  ask  for.  Two  or  three 
of  the  Huns  covered  him  with  their  carbines  as  he 
dashed  out  of  the  port  door  of  the  saloon — that 
one  just  behind  you — but  lowered  the  muzzles 
again  when  they  saw  it  was  apparently  only  a  half- 
distracted  parent  trying  to  signal  for  the  boat  to 
come  back  for  him  and  his  babe.  I  have  no  doubt 
that  there  were  some  very  sarcastic  remarks  passed 
on  that  U-boat  at  this  juncture  about  the  courage  of 
the  English  male.  //  there  were,  the  next  act  of 


"Q" 


229 


the  coolest  and  bravest  boy  I  ever  knew  literally 
forced  the  words  down  their  throats. 

"  The  whaler  which,  following  its  instructions, 
had  been  pulling  easterly  for  some  minutes,  now 
bore  about  four  points  on  the  port  quarter,  so  that 
R ,  in  his  apparent  endeavour  to  call  its  atten- 
tion to  the  deserted  babe,  could  not  have  seemed  to 
have  been  doing  anything  suspicious  when  he  swung 
the  bundle  above  his  head  and  rushed  to  the  rail 
almost  opposite  the  U-boat's  conning-tower.  That 
rotary  upward  and  backward  swing  was  absolutely 
necessary  for  getting  distance  with,  and  without  it 
there  was  no  way  that  forty  or  fifty  pound  infant 
could  have  been  hurled  the  fifteen  feet  or  more 
which  still  intervened.  As  it  was,  it  landed,  fair 
and  square,  in  the  angle  formed  by  the  after  end 
of  the  conning-tower  and  the  deck.  At  the  same 
instant  our  machine-guns  opened  up  through  sev- 
eral of  the  port  scuttles,  which  had  been  specially 
enlarged  and  masked  with  that  end  in  view,  and  in 
a  few  seconds  there  was  not  an  un wounded  Hun 
in  sight.  The  gunners  had  been  the  first  ones 
sprayed,  with  the  result  that  they  were  copped 
before  firing  a  shot.  Their  torpedoes,  or  course, 
were  too  close,  and  not  bearing  properly  enough 
to  launch. 

"  Immediately  following  the  explosion  of  the 
bomb  and  the  opening  of  the  machine-gun  fire  a 
strange  thing  happened.  I  saw  the  U-boat's  bow- 
rudders  begin  to  slant,  saw  her  begin  to  gather  way, 


230 


SEA-HOUNDS 


heard  the  hum  of  motors  as  the  rattle  of  the  Max- 
ims (their  work  completed)  died  out,  and — down 
she  went,  and  with  three  hatches  open,  and  a  ragged 
hole  abaft  the  conning-tower  where  the  '  baby  '  had 
exploded  in  its  final  tantrum.  I  could  never  get 
any  sure  explanation  of  this  from  any  of  the  sur- 
vivors we  fished  up  out  of  the  water,  but  everything 
points  to  the  probability  that  the  skipper — perhaps 
inadvertently,  as  the  up-kick  of  the  bomb  blew  him 
overboard — pulled  the  diving  klaxon,  and  the  offi- 
cer in  the  central  control  room,  not  knowing  just 
how  things  stood  above,  proceeded  to  submerge  as 
usual.  Doubtless  the  men  who  should  have  been 
standing  by  to  close  the  hatches  in  such  an  emer- 
gency had  been  caught  by  the  machine-gun  fire. 
With  every  man  below  tied  down  with  his  duties  in 
connection  with  submerging  her,  it  is  quite  conceiv- 
able that  nothing  could  be  done,  once  she  was  below 
the  surface,  to  stop  the  inrush  of  water,  and  that 
she  was  quickly  beyond  all  hope  of  bringing  up 
again.  I  didn't  have  a  fair  chance  to  size  up  the 
hole  ripped  open  by  the  bomb,  but  rather  think  that 
also  was  large  enough  to  have  admitted  a  good  deal 
of  water. 

"  It  was  rather  disappointing  in  a  way,  having 
her  go  down  like  that,  for  as  things  had  turned  out, 
it  was  a  hundred  to  one  we  should  otherwise  have 
captured  her  almost  unharmed.  There  was  a  good 
deal  of  solace,  however,  in  the  fact  that  none  of  the 
Huns  were  getting  back  to  tell  what  happened  to 


«  Q  »  231 

them,  so  that  this  identical  stunt  was  left  open  for 
use  again.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  variations  of  it 
were  used  a  number  of  times,  by  one  kind  of  craft 
or  another,  before  an  unlucky  slip-up — the  one 

which  finished  poor  R ,  by  the  way — gave  the 

game  away  and  started  us  veering  off  on  other 
tacks.  I  have  had  a  number  of  successes  since  that 

time,"  concluded  K ,  pouring  me  a  glass  of  the 

yacht's  1835  Cognac  as  a  night  cap,  "  but  never  a 
one  which  was  quite  so  much  like  taking  candy  from 
a  child  as  that  *  opener/  " 


CHAPTER  X 


THE  WHACK  AND  THE  SMACK 


THERE  was  always  a  strange  and  distinctive 
fascination  to  me  in  standing  on  the  bridge 
of  one  ship  and  watching  other  ships — and 
especially  lines  of  ships — push  up  and  sharpen  to 
shape  above  the  edge  of  the  sea. 

This  feeling,  strong  enough  in  ordinary  times 
— when  it  was  but  a  peaceful  merchantman  one 
watched  from  and  but  peaceful  merchantmen  that 
one  saw — is  intensified  manifold  when  it  is  a  war- 
ship's bridge  one  paces,  and  only  the  silhouettes  of 
ships  of  war  that  notch  the  far  horizon.  Battleship, 
battle  cruiser,  light  cruiser,  destroyer,  sloop,  traw- 
ler, and  all  the  other  kinds  and  classes  of  patrol 
craft — each  has  its  own  distinctive  smudge  of 
smoke,  its  own  peculiar  way  of  revealing  its  identity 
by  a  blurred  foretop,  funnel,  or  superstructure  long 
before  its  hull  has  lifted  its  amorphous  mass  above 
the  sky-line. 

And  now  to  the  sky-line  riddles  one  was  given  to 
read,  and  to  be  thrilled  by  as  the  puzzle  revealed 
itself,  had  been  added  the  great  troop  convoy  from 
America,  ray  first  sight  of  one  of  which  was  just  un- 
folding. H.M.S.  Buzz,  in  which  I  chanced  to  be 

232 


THE  WHACK  AND  THE  SMACK      233 

nit  at  the  time,  was  riot  one  of  the  escorting 
destroyers,  and  it  \vas  only  by  accident  that  the 
course  she  was  steering  to  join  up  with  a  couple  of 
other  ships  of  her  flotilla  on  some  kind  of  "  hunt- 
ing "  stunt  took  her  across  that  of  the  convoy,  and 
passed  it  in  inspiring  panoramic  review  before  our 
eyes.  From  dusky  blurs  of  smoke  trailing  low  along 
the  horizon,  ship  after  ship — from  ex-floating 
palaces  with  famous  names  to  angular  craft  of 
strange  design  which  were  evidently  the  latest 
word  in  standardised  construction — they  rose  out 
of  the  sea  (as  our  quartering  course  brought  us 
nearer)  until  a  wide  angle  of  our  seaward  view  was 
blocked  by  an  almost  solid  wall  of  steadily  steam- 
ing steel. 

There  was  a  lot  to  stir  the  imagination  in  that 
sight — aye,  fairly  to  grip  you  by  the  throat  as  a 
dawning  sense  of  what  it  portended  sank  home.  In 
the  abstract  it  was  the  living,  breathing  symbol  of 
the  relentless  progress  of  America's  mighty  effort, 
a  tangible  sign  of  the  fact  that  her  aid  to  the  Allies 
wrould  not  arrive  too  late.  What  it  stood  for  con- 
cretely is  best  expressed  in  the  words  of  the  young 
R.N.R.  sub-lieutenant  who  was  officer  of  the  watch 
at  the  time. 

"  It  looks  to  me,"  he  said,  with  a  pleased  smile, 
as  he  lowered  his  glass  after  a  long  scrutiny  of  the 
advancing  lines  of  ships,  "as  though  there' d  be 
jolly  near  forty  thousand  new  Yanks  to  be  catered 
for  in  Liverpool  by  to-morrow  evening." 


234 


SEA-HOUNDS 


"  Yes,"  I  said  somewhat  dubiously,  my  mind  sud- 
denly assailed  by  a  misgiving  awakened  by  the 
thousands  of  yards  of  torpedo  target  presented  by 
the  sides  of  those  placidly  ploughing  ships,  "  that 
is,  assuming  that  they  get  there  safely.  But  they're 
only  just  entering  the  danger  zone  now,  and  there's 
a  lot  of  water  got  to  stream  under  their  keels  before 
they  berth  in  the  Mersey. 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  convoys,  or  the 
ways  of  protecting  them ;  but  all  the  same,  it  looks 
to  me  as  though  that  bunch  of  troopers  would  offer 
a  mark  like  the  map  of  Ireland  to  a  U-boat,  and  a 
lot  more  vulnerable  one." 

Young  P—  -  laughed  as  he  bent,  squint-eyed,  to 
take  a  bearing  on  a  destroyer  zigzagging  jauntily 
with  high-flung  wake  in  the  van  of  the  approaching 
fleet. 

"  That's  what  everyone — even  an  old  sailor — 
says  the  first  time  he  sights  one  of  the  big  trans- 
atlantic convoys,"  he  said ;  "  and  if  there  are  any 
skippers  new  to  the  job  in  that  lot  there,  that's  just 
what  they're  saying.  It's  all  through  failure  to 
appreciate — indeed,  no  one  who  has  not  seen  the  ins 
and  outs  of  it  would  be  in  a  position  to  appreciate 
— the  effectiveness  of  the  whole  anti-submarine 
scheme,  and,  especially,  what  almost  complete  pro- 
tection thoroughly  up-to-the-minute  screening— 
with  adequate  destroyers  and  other  light  craft— 
really  affords.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  every  soldier  in 
that  convoy  is  probably  a  good  deal  safer  now — 


THE  WHACK  AND  THE  SMACK      235 

and  right  on  in  through  this  so-called  danger  zone 
to  harbour — than  he  was  marching  down  Broad- 
way to  the  pier — at  least,  if  Broadway  is  like  it 
was  when  I  used  to  put  in  to  New  York  as  a  kid 
in  the  Baltic." 

"  But  will  you  tell  me/'  I  protested,  "  how  a 
U-boat,  firing  two  or  three  torpedoes  from,  say,  just 
about  where  we  are  now,  could  possibly  miss  a  mark 
like  that?  " 

"  Well,  it  would  take  a  bit  of  missing  from  here- 
abouts, I  admit,"  was  the  reply;  "only,  if  there  is 
any  Fritz  still  in  the  game  with  the  nerve  to  try  it, 
he  would  also  be  missing  himself." 

"  What  would  happen  to  him?  "  I  asked. 

"  One  or  all  of  two  or  three  things  might  hap- 
pen,  P answered,  after  ordering  a  point  or 

two  alteration  in  course  to  give  safe  berth  to  the 
nearing  destroyer. 

"  He  might  get  his  hide  holed  by  gunfire,  he 
might  get  split  open  by  a  depth-charge,  he  might 
get  rammed,  and  he  might  get  several  other  things. 
With  all  the  luck  in  his  favour,  he  might  even  get 
a  transport.  But  there's  one  thing  I  can  assure 
you  he  wouldn't  get — and  that's  back  to  his  base. 
There  may  be  two  or  three  bearings  from  which 
one  of  these  big  convoys  appears  to  present  a 
mark  as  wide  and  unbroken  as  the  map  of  Ireland; 
but  there's  nothing  in  heaven  or  earth  to  save  the 
Fritz  who  hasn't  learned  by  the  sad  example  of  no 


236 


SEA-HOUNDS 


small  number  of  his  mates  that  it  is  quick  suicide 
for  him  to  slip  a  mouldie  down  one  of  them." 

"You  mean  that  he  doesn't  try  it?  that  he's 
afraid  to  take  the  chance?  "  I  asked  somewhat  in- 
credulously, for  I  had  somehow  come  to  regard 
Fritz,  though  a  pirate,  as  a  dashing  and  daring  one 
when  the  stake  was  high  enough. 

"  Except  under  very  favourable  circumstances, 
yes,"  was  the  reply ;  "  and  now  that,  with  the  com- 
ing of  the  American  destroyers  and  patrol  boats, 
we  are  able  to  do  the  thing  the  way  we  want  to, 
what  Fritz  might  reckon  as  'very  favourable  cir- 
cumstances '  are  becoming  increasingly  fewer  and 
farther  between.  Now  a  few  months  ago,  when 
we  were  just  getting  the  convoy  system  under  weigh, 
and  when  there  was  a  shortage  of  every  kind  of 
screening  craft,  things  were  different.  Fritz's 
moral  was  better  then  than  it  is  now,  and  we  didn't 
have  the  means  of  shaking  it  that  we  have  piled  up 
since.  At  our  first  convoys,  straggling  and  little 
schooled  in  looking  after  themselves,  he  used  to 
take  a  chance  as  often  as  not,  if  he  happened  to  sight 
them ;  but  even  then  he  rarely  got  back  to  tell  what 
happened  to  him.  There  was  the  one  that  tried  to 
celebrate  the  advent  of  t  Peace-on-Earth-Good-Will- 
to-Men  '  last  Christmas  Day  by  sinking  the  Amperi, 
which  was  one  of  a  convoy  the  Whack  (in  which  I 
was  Number  Two  at  the  time)  was  helping  to 
escort.  Well,  I  couldn't  say  much  for  his  '  Good- 
Will-toward-Men,'  but  he  certainly  found  a  short 


THE  WHACK  AND  THE  SMACK      237 


I 


cut  to  '  Peace-on-Earth,'  °r  at  least  the  bottom  of 
the  sea. 

"  Now  that  chap  took  a  real  sporting  chance,  and 
got  his  reward  for  it — both  ways.  I  mean  to  say, 
that  he  sunk  the  ship  he  went  after  all  right — which 
was  his  reward  one  way ;  and  that  we  then  sunk  him 
—which  was  his  reward  the  other  way.  There  was 
a  funny  coincidence  in  connection  with  that  little 
episode  which  might  amuse  you.  We  were " 

He  paused  for  a  moment  while  he  spelled  out  for 
himself  the  "  Visual "  which  one  of  the  escorting 
destroyers  was  flashing  to  the  convoy  leader,  but 
presently,  with  a  smile  of  pleased  reminiscence, 
took  up  the  thread  of  his  yarn.  This  is  the  story 

that  young  Sub-Lieutenant  P ,  R.N.R.,  told  me 

the  while  we  leaned  on  the  lee  rail  of  the  bridge 
and  watched  the  passing  of  those  miles-long  lines 
of  packed  troopers  as,  silently  sure  of  purpose,  su- 
perbly contemptuous  of  danger,  they  steamed  stead- 
ily on  to  deliver  their  cargoes  of  human  freight  one 
step  further  towards  the  fulfilment  of  its  destiny. 

"  It  was  Christmas  Day,  as  I  told  you,"  he  said, 
bracing  comfortable  against  the  roll,  "  and  a  cold, 
blustering,  windy  day  it  was.  Several  days  pre- 
viously we  had  picked  up  a  small  slow  convoy  off  a 
West  African  port,  and  were  escorting  it  to  a  port 
on  the  West  Coast  of  England.  The  escort  con- 
sisted only  of  the  Whack  and  the  Smack,  the  skip- 
per of  the  latter,  as  the  senior  officer,  being  in  com- 
jmand.  None  of  the  ships — they  were  mostly  slow 


238 


SEA-HOUNDS 


freighters — had  had  much  convoy  experience  to 
speak  of  at  the  time,  and  we  were  having  our  hands 
full  all  the  way  keeping  them  in  any  kind  of  forma- 
tion. They  seemed  to  be  getting  worse  rather  than 
better  in  this  respect  as  we  got  into  the  waters 
where  U-boat  attacks  might  be  expected,  but  this 
may  have  been  largely  due  to  the  weather,  which 
was — well,  about  the  usual  mid-winter  brand  in 
those  latitudes.  In  fact,  we  were  just  becoming 
hopeful  that  the  rising  wind  and  sea,  both  were 
about  *  Force  6,'  might  make  it  impossible  for  sub- 
marines to  operate  during  the  day  or  so  that  still 
must  elapse  before  reaching  port,  when  trouble 
began. 

"All  the  morning  the  Plato,  which  had  been  a 
bad  straggler  throughout,  had  been  falling  astern, 
and  finally  the  Smack  ordered  "Whack  back  to  prod 
her  on  and  do  what  could  be  done  in  the  way  of 
screening  her.  She  still  continued  to  lose  distance, 
however,  so  that,  at  noon,  we  were  nearly  out  of 
sight  of  the  main  convoy,  of  which  little  more  than 
smoke  and  topmasts  could  be  seen  on  the  northern 
horizon. 

"At  that  hour  the  Smack,  doubtless  because 
he  had  received  some  report  of  the  presence  of 
U-boats  in  his  vicinity,  ordered  us  to  rejoin  the 
convoy.  We  left  an  armed  trawler  to  do  what  it 
could  for  the  loitering  Plato,  and  started  off  at  the 
best  rate  the  weather  would  allow  to  make  up  the 
distance  lost.  It  was  at  this  juncture  that  the 


WHACK  AND  THE  SMACK      239 

amusing  little  coincidence  I  mentioned  a  while  ago 
occurred. 

"  A  patrol-boat,  of  course,  does  not  carry  a  padre, 
any  more  than  it  does  a  number  of  the  other  com- 
forts and  luxuries  provided  in  cruisers  and  battle- 
ships, and  for  that  reason  we  hadn't  been  able  to 
do  very  much  in  the  way  of  a  Christmas  service. 
Several  of  the  ship's  company  were  somewhat  reli- 
giously inclined,  however,  and  these,  in  lieu  of 
anything  better,  had  asked  for  and  received  per- 
mission to  hold  a  bit  of  a  song  service,  in  case  there 
was  opportunity  for  it,  during  the  day.  As  the 
morning  had  been  a  rather  full  one,  no  suitable  in- 
terval offered  until  their  rather  poor  apology 
for  a  Christmas  dinner  was  out  of  the  way,  and 
we  were  headed  back  to  join  the  convoy.  Then  they 
went  to  it  with  a  will,  and  for  the  next  hour  or 
more  fragments  of  Yuletide  songs  came  drifting 
back  to  my  cabin  to  mingle  with  a  number  of  other 
things  conspiring  to  disturb  the  forty  winks  I 
was  trying  to  snatch  while  the  going  was  good. 
After  a  while,  it  appears,  having  run  through  their 
repertoire  of  Christmas  songs,  they  started  in  on 
Easter  ones,  '  Bein '  that  they  was  mo'  or  less  on 
the  same  subject,'  as  one  of  them  explained  to  me 
later.  They  had  just  boomed  the  last  line  of  a 
chorus  which  concluded  with  l  We  shall  seek  our 
risen  Lord/  when  a  signal  was  received  stating  that 
a  periscope  had  been  sighted  by  some  ship  of  the 
convoy,  and,  sure  enough,  off  they  had  to  go  to 


240 


SEA-HOUNDS 


seek — well,  I  wouldn't  take  the  Hun  quite  so  near 
his  own  valuation  of  himself  to  put  it  as  the  song 
does,  but  all  the  same  that  quick  new  kick  of  the 
screws  told  me  as  plain  as  any  words,  even  before 
I  read  the  signal,  that  the  old  'Whack  wTas  jumping 
away  to  seek  something  that  had  risen. 

"  The  convoy  was  dead  ahead  of  us  at  a  distance 
of  about  seven  miles  when  I  reached  the  bridge, 
and,  the  visibility  being  unusually  good  for  that 
time  of  year,  I  could  see  all  of  the  ships  distinctly, 
as  they  steamed  in  two  columns  of  three  abreast. 
I  was  even  able  to  recognise  the  Amperi  in  the  cen- 
tre of  the  leading  line.  We  were  just  comforting 
each  other  with  the  assurance  that  it  was  getting 
too  rough  for  a  U-boat  to  run  a  torpedo  with  any 
chance  of  finding  its  mark,  when  a  huge  spout  of 
water  jumped  skyward  right  in  the  middle  of  the 
convoy.  When  it  subsided,  the  Amperi,  with  a 
heavy  list  to  port,  could  be  seen  heading  westward, 
evidently  with  her  engines  and  steering  gear  dis- 
abled, while  the  rest  of  the  convoy,  smoke  rolling 
from  their  funnels,  were  '  starring '  on  northerly 
courses. 

"  The  alarm  was  rung,  and  as  the  men  rushed  to 
action  stations  a  signal  was  made  to  the  Smack 
asking  what  was  wrong.  She  replied,  f  Amperi 
torpedoed;  join  me  with  all  dispatch.'  This,  of 
course,  we  had  already  started  to  do,  though  the 
wind  and  sea  were  knocking  a  good  many  knots  off 
our  best  speed.  It  was  evident  enough  that  the 


THE  WHACK  AND  THE  SMACK      241 

Amperl  had  received  a  death-blow,  so  that  we  were 
not  surprised  to  find  them  abandoning  ship  as  we 
began  to  close  her. 

"  Rotten  as  the  weather  was  for  it,  this  was 
being  conducted  most  coolly  and  skilfully,  and  three 
boats  had  already  left  her  before  we  came  driving 
down  to  her  assistance.  Smack  had  signalled  us 
to  pick  up  survivors,  and  we  had  stood  in,  at  re- 
duced speed,  to  250  yards  of  the  now  heavily  heel- 
ing ship,  with  the  intention  of  proceeding  on  down, 
to  the  leeward  of  her  to  the  aid  of  two  of  her  boats, 
when  we  sighted  three  or  four  feet  of  periscope 
sticking  out  of  the  water,  one  point  on  the  star- 
board bow  and  at  a  distance  of  about  a  couple  of 
hundred  yards.  To  see  anything  at  all  in  rough 
water  like  that,  you  understand,  a  periscope  has  to 
be  poked  well  above  the  slap  of  the  waves,  and 
that  about  equalizes  the  greater  difficulty  there  is 
in  picking  up  the  (  feather '  when  it's  choppy. 

"  I  was  at  my  action  station  with  the  12-pounder 
batteries  at  this  juncture,  but  as  it  looked  like  a 
better  chance  for  the  depth-charges  than  the  guns, 
no  order  to  open  fire  was  given  just  yet.  The  cap- 
tain ordered  the  helm  to  be  steadied,  and  rang  up 
'  Full  speed  ahead  '  to  the  engine-room.  We  passed 
the  periscope  ten  yards  on  the  port  side,  and  when 
the  stern  was  just  coming  abreast  it,  two  charges 
were  released  together.  As  they  were  both  set  for 
the  same  depth  it  is  probable  that  the  one  stagger- 
ingly powerful  explosion  we  felt  was  caused  by 


5  SEA-HOUNDS 

their  detonating  simultaneously.  The  shock  was  a 
solid  as  though  we  had  struck  a  rock,  and  I  could 
feel  a  distinct  lift  to  the  ship  before  the  impact  of 
it.  There  was  something  so  substantially  satisfying 
about  that  muffled  jar  that  it  seemed  only  in  the 
natural  course  of  things  that  it  effected  what  it  wras 
intended  to.  The  bow  of  the  U-boat  broke  surface 
almost  immediately,  the  fact  that  it  showed  before 
the  conning-tower  proving  at  once  that  she  was 
hard  hit  and  heavily  down  by  the  stern.  Indeed,  the 
deck  of  her  from  the  conning-tower  aft  was  fated 
never  again  to  feel  the  rush  of  sea  air. 

"  She  was  now  less  than  a  hundred  yards  right 
astern  of  us,  and  heading,  in  a  wobbly  sort  of  way, 
like  a  half-stunned  porpoise  floundering  away  from 
the  *  boil '  of  a  depth-charge,  on  just  about  the 
course  the  Whack  had  been  on  when  she  kicked 
loose  her  '  cans.' 

"  The  skipper  put  the  helm  hard-a-starboard, 
with  the  idea  of  turning  to  ram,  at  the  same  time 
ordering  me  to  open  fire  with  the  port  twelv 
pounder.  That  was  what  I  had  been  waiting  for. 
The  gun-crew  was  down  to  three — through  the 
others  having  been  detailed  for  boat  work  in  con- 
nection with  picking  up  the  survivors  from  the 
Amperi — but  that  didn't  bother  a  good  deal  in  a 
short  and  sweet  practice  like  this  one.  The  ship 
was  bobbing  like  a  cork  from  the  seas,  in  addition  to 
her  heavy  heel  from  the  short  turn  and  the  vibra- 
tion from  the  grind  of  the  helm.  But  neither  did 


THE  WHACK  AND  THE  SMACK      243 

any  of  these  little  things  matter  materially,  for 
we'd  always  made  a  point  of  carrying  out  our  tar- 
get practice  under  the  worst  conditions. 

"  The  first  round,  fired  at  three  hundred  yards, 
was  an  l  over '  by  a  narrow  margin,  but  the  second, 
at  two  hundred  yards,  was  a  clean  hit  on  the  con- 
ning-tower,  carrying  away  the  periscope  and  the 
stays  supporting  it.  The  explosion  of  this  shell 
appeared  to  split  the  whole  superstructure  of  the 
conning-tower,  from  the  bridge  to  the  deck.  I  did 
not  see  anyone  on  the  bridge  at  this  moment,  and  if 
there  had  been  he  must  certainly  have  been  killed. 
The  fact  that  the  submarine  seemed  to  have  been 
blown  to  the  surface  by  the  force  of  our  exploding 
depth-charges  rather  than  to  have  come  up  volun- 
tarily, may  account  for  the  fact  that  no  head  was 
poked  above  the  bridge  rail  as  she  emerged.  If 
she  had  come  up  deliberately  it  would  have  been 
the  duty  of  the  skipper  and  a  signalman  to  pop  out 
on  to  the  bridge  at  once  to  be  ready  for  eventuali- 
ties. Evidently  they  had  no  chance  to  do  so  on  this 
occasion,  and  as  a  consequence  spun  out  their 
thread  o'  life  by  anywhere  from  twenty  to  thirty 
seconds — whatever  that  was  worth  to  them. 

"  My  third  shot  plumped  into  her  abaft  the  con- 
ning-tower, and  the  explosion  which  followed  it  had 
a  good  deal  more  behind  it  than  the  charge  of  a 
twelve-pounder  shell.  Before  I  had  a  chance  to  see 
what  had  blown  up,  however,  we  had  rammed  her, 
and  whatever  damage  that  shot  had  caused  dis- 


244 


SEA-HOUNDS 


solved  in  the  chaos  of  what  proved  the  real  coup  de 
grace.  That  ramming  was  undoubtedly  one  of  the 
prettiest  little  jobs  of  its  kind,  one  of  the  most 
neatly  finessed,  ever  brought  off. 

"  Since  running  over  the  submarine  and  dropping 
the  depth-charges  the  captain  had  turned  the 
Whack  through  thirty-two  points,  a  complete  cir- 
cle. This  brought  her  back  to  a  course  just  at 
right  angles  to  the  beam  of  the  now  helpless  enemy, 
toward  which  she  was  driven  to  the  limit  of  the  last 
kick  of  the  engines.  Just  before  the  moment  of 
impact  the  screws  were  stopped  dead,  so  as  to  sink 
the  bow  and  reduce  the  chance  of  riding  over  the 
U-boat  and  rolling  it  under  her  stem,  as  has  occa- 
sionally happened,  instead  of  cutting  it  straight  in 
two.  The  jar,  when  it  came,  was  terrific,  throwing 
from  his  feet  every  man  not  holding  to  something ; 
yet  there  was  that  in  the  clean,  sweet  crunch  of  it 
that  told  me  that  it  had  accomplished  all  the  heart 
could  desire,  even  before  the  next  second  furnished 
graphic  ocular  evidence  of  it. 

"  The  sharp,  fine  bows  of  the  Whack  drove  home 
well  abaft  the  conning-tower,  and — though  the 
staggering  jar  told  of  the  resistance  met — for  all 
the  eye  could  see,  cut  through  like  a  knife  in  soft 
butter.  Indeed,  the  amazing  cleanness  of  the  cut 
has  always  seemed  to  me  the  most  remarkable  fea- 
ture of  the  whole  show.  The  bow  end  of  the  U-boat, 
with  the  conning-tower,  wras  the  section  which  was 
cut  off  on  my  side — port — and  the  even  cross-sec- 


THE  WHACK  AND  THE  SMACK      245 

don  of  it  that  gaped  up  at  me  was  very  little  differ- 
ent from  that  I  once  saw  when  one  of  our  own  sub- 
marines was  being  sawed  through  amidships  in 
connection  with  some  repairs.  Even  the  plating 
did  not  appear  to  be  bent  or  buckled.  The  impres- 
sion that  ring  of  shining  clean-cloven  steel  left  on 
my  mind  was  of  a  cut  as  true  and  even  as  could  have 
been  done  in  dock  with  an  acetylene  flame.  This 
was  largely  imagination,  of  course;  and  yet  how 
photographic  my  mind-picture  is  you  may  judge 
from  the  fact  that  I  have  distinct  recollection  of 
seeing  the  thin  circle  of  red  lead  where  it  showed  all 
the  way  round  beneath  the  grey  of  the  outer  paint. 
"  The  heavily  tilted  main  deck  of  the  interior  of 
this  section  of  the  U-boat  did  not  appear  to  be 
flooded  at  this  juncture,  though  any  water  that  had 
been  shipped,  of  course,  would  have  been  in  the  now 
submerged  bows.  I  have  a  jumbled  recollection  of 
wheels  and  levers  and  switchboards,  fittings  of 
brass  and  steel,  and  what  I  took  to  be  three  tor- 
pedoes— one  on  the  port  side,  and  two,  one  above 
the  other,  on  the  starboard.  The  most  arresting 
thing  of  all,  however,  was  the  figure  of  a  solitary 
man,  the  only  one,  strange  to  say,  that  anybody 
reports  having  seen.  He  was  scrambling  upward 
toward  the  opening,  and  I  have  never  been  quite 
sure  whether  he  was  '  Kainerad-ing '  with  his  up- 
lifted hands,  or  whether  they  were  raised  prepara- 
tory to  the  dive  it  is  quite  probable  he  intended  to 
make  into  the  sea. 


SEA-HOUNDS 

Whichever  the  attitude  was,  it  had  no  chance 
to  serve  its  purpose.  The  stern  section  of  the  U- 
boat — the  one  most  heavily  damaged  by  the  depth- 
charges — was  seen  to  sink  abreast  the  starboard 
12-pounder  battery  by  the  crew  of  that  gun,  but  the 
forward  part— the  one  with  the  conning-tower, 
which  I  had  seen  into  the  interior  of — buoyed  up 
by  the  water-tight  compartments  in  the  bows,  con- 
tinued to  float.  Observing  this,  the  Captain  or- 
dered the  helm  put  a-starboard,  and  as  we  turned, 
the  4-inch  gun  and  my  12-pounder  opened  up  to- 
gether. My  very  first  round,  fired  over  the  port 
quarter,  hit  and  exploded  fairly  inside  the  gaping 
end  of  the  section,  right  where  I  had  last  seen  the 
man  with  upraised  hands.  That,  and  the  two  or 
three  smashing  hits  by  the  4-inch  gun,  finished  the 
job.  A  whirlpool  in  the  sea  marked  the  rush  of 
water  into  the  severed  end,  and  this  section — for  all 
the  world  as  though  it  had  been  a  complete  sub- 
marine— tossed  its  bows,  with  their  elephant-ear- 
like  rudders,  skyward,  and  planed  off  on  an  easy 
angle  toward  the  bottom.  Its  disappearance  was 
complete.  There  were  no  survivors,  and  practi- 
cally no  floating  wreckage.  Only  a  spreading  film 
of  oil  and  a  tangle  of  torn  wakes  slowly  dissolving 
in  the  wash  of  the  driving  seas  marked  the  scene  of 
the  action.  It  had  lasted  something  over  ten 
minutes. 

"  The  Whack  suffered  considerable  damage  from 
the  impact  with  the  submarine,  though  not  enough 


THE  WHACK  AND  THE  SMACK      247 

give  us  serious  worry,  even  in  so  heavy  a  sea. 
The  stem  was  bent  over  to  port,  like  a  broken  nose, 
and  the  buckling  plates  caused  her  to  make  quite  a 
bit  of  water.  We  had  no  trouble  coping  with  this, 
however,  and  made  port,  with  the  survivors  of  the 
Amperi  aboard,  without  difficulty.  There  we  soon 
had  the — well,  not  unmixedly  unpleasant — news 
that  the  Whack's  wounds  were  of  a  nature  some- 
what comparable  to  what  the  Tommy  in  France 
calls  a  '  Blighty.'  Without  having  any  real  per- 
manent harm  done  her,  she  was  still  enough 
banged  up  to  need  a  special  refit,  the  period  of 
which,  of  course,  the  most  of  us  would  be  able  to 
spend  at  home  on  leave.  Yes,  indeed/'  he  con- 
cluded, grinning  pleasedly,  "  that  was  a  ripping 
piece  of  ramming  in  more  ways  than  one." 

p went  over  and  bent  above  the  shivering 

"  Gyro,"  for  a  moment,  took  a  long  look  through  his 
glasses  at  the  last  of  the  now  receding  convoy,  and 
then  came  back  and  rejoined  me  by  the  rail. 

"  There  was  one  little  thing  I  neglected  to  tell 
you  about,"  he  said  presently,  "and  that  was  the 
part  the  Smack  played  in  that  show.  Although  the 
Whack  got  all  the  kudos  for  the  sinking,  there  is  a 
decided  possibility  that  a  bit  of  a  stunt  the  Smack 
brought  off  before  ever  we  came  up  may  have  been 
largely  if  not  entirely  responsible  for  us  getting  the 
chance  we  did. 

"  Smack,  you  see,  was  near  at  hand  when  the  Am- 
peri was  torpedoed,  and  the  instant  her  Captain 


248 


SEA-HOUNDS 


saw  the  spout  of  water  shoot  up  in  the  air,  he 
altered  course  and  drove  at  full  speed  for  the  point 
he  reckoned  the  submarine  would  be  most  likely  to 
be  encountered.  He  reports  that  he  had  the  good 
fortune  to  hit  it,  while  it  was  still  submerged,  and 
that  the  shock  was  severe  enough  to  throw  men  off 
their  balance.  Shortly  after  that  a  periscope  ap- 
peared, and  it  was  this  that  gave  the  Whack  her 
chance  to  drop  her  depth-charges. 

"  Now,  not  unnaturally,  the  Captain  of  the 
Smack  had  good  reason  to  believe  that  his  striking 
the  U-boat,  even  if  he  only  grazed  her,  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  her  reappearance  on  the  surface 
at  a  moment  when  she  must  have  known  a  stren- 
uous hunt  for  her  was  in  progress.  Unluckily,  for 
his  claim,  however,  the  bows  of  the  Smack,  when 
she  came  to  be  docked,  did  not  show  sufficient  evi- 
dences of  having  been  in  heavy  collison  to  warrant 
the  conclusion  that  the  U-boat  had  been  enough 
damaged  to  have  gone  to  the  surface  from  that 
cause  alone.  Under  the  circumstances,  therefore, 
there  wasn't  anything  else  to  do  but  give  the  credit 
for  bringing  her  up  to  Whack's  depth-charges, 
while  of  course,  the  fact  that  it  was  also  the  Whack 
that  rammed  her  was  obvious  enough.  The  conse- 
quence was,  as  I  said,  that  we  got  all  the  kudos/' 

He  gazed  for  a  few  moments  at  the  back-curling 
bow-wave,  before  resuming.  "  Yes,  we  got  all  the 
kudos"  he  said  slowly ;  "  but,  all  the  same,  I've 
never  been  able  to  figure  why  Fritz  didn't  douse  his 


THE  WHACK  AND  THE  SMACK      249 

periscope  and  try  to  dive  deeper  when  he  saw  the 
Whack  rounding  toward  him,  if  it  wasn't  because 
there  was  something  pretty  radically  wrong  with 
him  already.  I  can't  help  thinking  that  the  old 
Smack  had  a  lot  to  do  with  starting  that  Fritz  on 
his  downward  path,  even  if  it  was  the  Whack  that 
gave  him  the  final  shove/' 

It  was  very  characteristic,  that  last  little  expla- 
nation of  P 's.    If  there  is  one  thing  more  than 

another  that  has  impressed  me  in  hearing  these 
young  British  destroyer  officers  tell  the  "  little 
games  they  have  played  with  Fritz,"  it  is  the  fine 
sporting  spirit  in  which  they  invariably  insist  in 
sharing  the  credit  of  an  achievement  with  every 
other  officer,  and  man,  and  ship  that  has  in  any  way 
figured  in  the  action.  It  was  the  fault  of  the  Hun 
that  we  could  no  longer  treat  the  enemy  as  we 
would  an  opponent  in  sport;  but  that  only  makes 
it  all  the  more  inspiring  to  see  the  fellow-players 
still  keeping  alive  the  old  spirit  among  themselves. 


CHAPTER  XI 
BOMBED! 

IT  was  generally  admitted  by  flying-men,  even 
before  the  failure  of  the  attempts  to  destroy 
the  Goeben  while  ashore  in  the  Dardanelles 
early  in  '18,  that  the  air-bomb  was  a  most  uncertain 
and  ineffective  weapon  against  a  large  ship  of  any 
class,  but  especially  so  against  a  warship  with  deck 
armour. 

The  principal  reason  for  this  is  that  the  blunt- 
nosed  air-bomb,  no  matter  from  how  high  it  may  be 
dropped,  has  neither  the  velocity  nor  the  structure 
to  penetrate  the  enclosed  spaces  of  a  ship  where  its 
explosive  charge  would  find  something  to  exert 
itself  against. 

This  is  why  an  18-pounder  shell,  penetrating  to  a 
casemate  or  engine-room,  for  instance,  may  easily 
do  more  damage  to  a  warship  than  an  air-bomb  of 
ten  times  that  weight  expending  its  force  more  or 
less  harmlessly  upon  an  upper  deck. 

Merchant  ships,  with  their  inflammable  and  com- 
paratively flimsy  upper  works,  are  more  vulnerable 
to  air-bombs  than  are  warships,  but  even  of  these 

250 


BOMBED! 


251 


very  few  indeed  have  been  completely  destroyed  as 
a  consequence  of  aerial  attack.  Some  of  the  gani- 
est  fights  of  the  war  on  the  sea  have  been  those  of 
merchant  skippers  who,  in  the  days  before  their 
ships  had  guns  of  any  description  to  keep  aircraft 
at  a  distance,  brought  their  vessels  through  by  the 
exercise  of  the  boundless  resource  which  charac- 
terises their  kind,  usually  by  sheer  skill  in  man- 
oauvring.  A  very  remarkable  instance  of  this  char- 
acter I  heard  of  a  few  days  ago  from  a  Royal  Naval 
Reserve  officer  who  figured  in  it. 

"  I  was  in  a  British  ship  temporarily  in  the  Hol- 
land-South American  service  at  the  time,"  he  said, 
"  and  we  were  outward  bound  from  Rotterdam 
after  discharging  a  cargo  of  wheat  from  Monte- 
video. It  was  before  the  Huns  had  raised  any  ob- 
jection to  ships  bound  for  Dutch  ports  using  the 
direct  route  by  the  English  Channel,  and  also  be- 
fore the  U-boats  had  begun  to  sink  neutrals  on 
that  run.  Except  for  the  comparatively  slight  risk 
of  encountering  a  floating  mine,  we  reckoned  we 
were  just  about  as  safe  in  the  North  Sea  as  in  the 
South  Atlantic.  Of  course,  we  carried  no  gun  of 
any  kind — no  heavy  gun,  I  mean.  We  did  have 
a  rifle  or  two,  as  I  will  tell  you  of  presently. 

"Why  the  attack  was  made  we  never  had  any 
definite  explanation.  In  fact,  the  Germans  them- 
selves probably  never  knew,  for  they  tumbled  over 
themselves  to  assure  the  Holland  Government  that 
there  wras  some  misunderstanding,  and  that  they 


252 


SEA-HOUNDS 


would  undertake  that  nothing  of  the  kind  should 
occur  again. 

"  My  personal  opinion  has  always  been  that  it 
was  a  sheer  case  of  running  amuck  on  the  part  of 
the  Hun  aviator  responsible  for  the  outrage;  for, 
as  I  have  said,  we  were  empty  of  cargo,  our  marks 
were  unmistakable,  and  we  were  steering  a  course 
several  points  off  the  one  usually  followed  by  the 
Dutch  boats  to  England.  Anyway,  he  paid  the  full 
penalty  for  his  descent  to  barbarism. 

"  It  was  a  clear  afternoon,  with  a  light  wind  and 
lighter  sea,  and  we  were  steaming  comfortably 
along  at  about  nine  knots,  heading  for  the  Straits 
of  Dover,  when  the  look-out  at  the  mast-head  re- 
ported a  squadron  of  'planes  approaching  from  the 
south. 

"  Presently  we  sighted  them  from  the  bridge- 
five  seaplanes,  three  or  four  points  off  our  star- 
board bow.  There  had  been  reports  of  noonday 
raids  on  Calais  for  several  days,  and  I  surmised 
that  those  were  Hun  machines  returning  from  some 
such  stunt. 

"  Holding  to  an  even  course,  the  squadron 
passed  over  a  mile  or  more  to  the  starboard  of  us, 
and  it  was  already  some  distance  astern  when  I 
saw  one  of  the  machines — I  think  it  was  the  one 
leading  the  '  V ' —  detach  itself  from  the  others  and 
head  swiftly  back  in  our  direction.  There  was 
nothing  out  of  the  way  in  this  action  at  a  time  when 
every  ship  was  held  in  more  or  less  suspicion  by 


BOMBED! 


253 


both  belligerents,  and  it  seemed  to  me  so  right  and 
proper  that  the  chap  should  come  and  have  a  look 
at  us,  in  case  he  had  some  doubts,  that  I  did  not 
even  think  it  necessary  to  call  the  '  Old  Man '  to 
the  bridge,  or  even  send  him  word  of  what  I  took 
to  be  no  more  than  a  passing  incident, 

"  Descending  swiftly  as  he  approached,  the  Hun 
passed  over  the  ship  diagonally — from  port 
quarter  to  starboard  bow — at  a  height  of  six  or 
eight  hundred  feet. 

"  <  That'll  end  it,'  I  thought,  t  Our  marks,  and 
the  fact  that  we're  in  ballast,  ought  to  satisfy  him.' 

"  But  no.  Back  he  came.  This  time  he  was  a 
hundred  feet  or  so  lower,  and  flying  on  a  line 
directly  down  our  course,  passing  over  us  from  bow 
to  stern.  Again  he  swung  round  and  repeated  the 
manoeuvre  in  reverse,  this  time  at  a  height  of  not 
more  than  four  hundred  feet.  He  had  done  this 
five  or  six  times  before  it  occurred  to  me  that  he 
was  taking  practice  sights  for  bombing;  but  not 
even  then,  when  I  saw  him  with  his  eye  glued  to  Ms 
dropping-instrument,  did  it  occur  to  me  that  he 
was  doing  anything  more  than  trying  his  sights. 
It  was  at  the  next '  run  '  or  two  that  the  thing  began 
to  get  on  my  nerves,  and  I  called  up  the  skipper  on 
the  voice-pipe  and  told  him  I  did  not  quite  like  the 
look  of  the  circus. 

"  The  Old  Man  was  in  the  middle  of  his  after- 
noon siesta,  but  he  tumbled  out  and  came  puffing 
up  to  the  bridge  at  the  double.  He  was  no  more 


254 


SEA-HOUNDS 


inclined  to  take  the  thing  seriously  than  I  was, 
but,  on  the  offchance — which  your  careful  skipper 
is  always  thinking  of  in  the  back  of  his  brain-box 
— he  rang  up  '  More  steam  '  on  the  engine-room  tele- 
graph, and  ordered  the  quartermaster  to  start  zig- 
zagging, a  stunt  we  had  already  practised  a  bit 
in  the  event  of  a  submarine  attack. 

"  '  If  he's  just  trying  his  eye,'  said  the  Old  Man, 
i  it'll  give  him  all  the  better  practice  to  follow  us; 
while,  it  he's  up  to  mischief,  it  may  fuss  him  a  bit,' 

"  The  Hun  had  just  whirled  about  three  or  four 
cables'  length  ahead  of  us,  when  the  smoke  rolling 
up  from  the  funnel  and  the  swinging  bow  must 
have  told  him  that  we  were  trying  to  give  him  a  bit 
more  of  a  run  for  his  money.  Circling  on  a  wider 
turn,  he  came  charging  straight  down  the  line  of 
our  new  course,  flying  at  what  I  should  say  was 
between  two  and  three  times  the  height  of  our 
masts.  We  were  looking  at  the  machine  at  an  angle 
of  about  forty-five  degrees — so  that  he  must  have 
been  about  as  far  ahead  of  us  as  he  was  high,  say, 
a  hundred  yards — when  I  saw  a  small  dark  object 
detach  itself  from  under  the  fuselage  and  begin  to 
come  directly  towards  us,  almost  as  though  shot 
from  a  gun. 

"  It  was  the  only  bomb  I  ever  saw  fall  while  I 
was  in  a  sufficiently  detached  state  of  mind  to 
mark  what  it  looked  like.  '  Fall '  hardly  conveys 
a  true  picture  of  the  way  the  thing  seemed  to  ap- 
proach, for  the  swift  machine,  speeding  at  perhaps 


BOMBED!  255 

a  hundred  miles  an  hour,  must  have  imparted,  at 
the  instant  of  releasing,  a  good  deal  of  lateral 
velocity. 

"  At  first  it  was  coming  almost  head  on  to  the 
way  I  was  looking  at  it,  and,  greatly  foreshort- 
ened, it  had  so  much  the  appearance  of  a  round 
sand-bag  that  it  is  not  surprising  that  the  skipper 
took  it  for  some  kind  of  practice  dummy.  '  Prob- 
ably a  dud,'  I  remember  him  saying;  '  but  don't  let 
it  hit  you.  Stand  by  to  duck! ' 

"  My  next  recollection  is  of  the  thing  beginning 
to  wobble  a  bit,  probably  as  the  nose  began  to  tilt 
downward;  but  still  it  seemed  to  be  coming 
straight  toward  us  rather  than  simply  falling.  I 
seem  to  recall  that  the  seaplane  passed  overhead 
an  appreciable  space  before  the  bomb,  but  I  must 
have  heard  it  rather  than  seen  it,  for  I  never  took 
my  eye  off  the  speeding  missile. 

"  The  latter  seemed  at  the  least  from  fifty  to  a 
hundred  feet  above  my  head  as  it  hurtled  over  the 
starboard  end  of  the  bridge,  and  I  saw  it  with 
startling  distinctness  silhouetted  against  a  cloud 
that  was  bright  with  the  light  of  the  sun  it  had 
just  obscured.  It  was  still  wobbling,  but  appar- 
ently tending  to  steady  under  the  combined  influ- 
ence of  the  downward  pull  of  the  heavy  head  and 
the  backward  drag  of  the  winged  tail.  It  appeared 
to  be  revolving. 

"  I  have  since  thought,  however,  that  I  may  have 
got  the  latter  impression  from  a  '  spinner '  that  is 


256 


SEA-HOUNDS 


often  attached  to  this  type  of  bomb  to  unwind, 
with  the  resistance  of  the  air,  and  expose  the  de- 
tonator. 

"  Down  it  came  until  it  whanged  against  some  of 
the  standing  rigging  of  the  foremast — seeming  to 
deflect  inboard  and  downward  slightly  as  a  con- 
sequence— missed  the  mainmast  by  a  few  feet,  and 
struck  squarely  against  the  side  of  the  deckhouse 
on  the  poop. 

"  The  scene  immediately  after  the  explosion  of 
the  bomb  is  photographed  indelibly  on  my  memory ; 
the  events  which  followed  are  more  of  a  jumble. 
The  detonation  was  a  good  deal  less  sharp  than  I 
had  expected,  and  so  was  the  shock  from  it.  The 
latter  was  not  nearly  so  heavy  as  that  from  many 
a  wave  that  had  crashed  over  her  bows,  but,  coining 
from  aft  rather  than  forward,  the  jolt  had  a  dis- 
tinctly different  feel,  and  by  a  man  'tween  decks 
would  hardly  have  been  mistaken  for  that  from  a 
sea. 

"  It  was  the  flash  of  the  explosion — a  huge  spurt 
of  hot,  red  flame — that  was  the  really  astonishing 
thing.  It  seemed  to  embrace  the  whole  afterpart 
of  the  ship,  and  everything  one  of  the  forked 
tongues  of  fire  was  projected  against  burst  into 
flame  itself. 

"  The  ramshackle  deckhouse,  which  had  been  re- 
duced to  kindling  wood  by  the  explosion,  roared 
like  a  furnace  in  the  middle  of  the  poop.  Even  the 
deck  itself  was  blazing.  I  had  once  been  near  an 


BOMBED!  257 

incendiary  bomb  in  a  London  air  raid,  and  knew 
that  nothing  else  could  have  produced  so  sudden 
and  so  fierce  a  fire. 

"  But  I  also  knew  that  the  first  burst  of  flame 
is  the  worst  in  such  a  case,  and  that  most  of  the 
fire  came  from  the  inflammable  stuff  in  the  bomb 
itself. 

"As  I  had  always  heard  that  sand  was  better 
than  water  in  putting  out  a  fire  of  this  kind,  and 
knowing  we  carried  several  barrels  of  it  for  scrub- 
bing the  decks,  I  ordered  it  to  be  brought  up  and 
thrown  on  the  flames,  but  stood  by  on  the  bridge 
myself  in  case  the  skipper,  who  was  bawling  down 
the  engine-room  voice-pipe  for  more  steam,  needed 
me  for  anything  else. 

"  Luckily  the  sand  was  close  at  hand,  and  they 
were  scattering  it  from  buckets  over  the  blazing 
deck  within  a  minute  or  two.  Except  for  the 
debris  of  the  deckhouse,  the  fire  was  put  out  al- 
most as  quickly  as  it  was  started,  and,  between 
sand  and  water,  even  that  was  being  rapidly  got 
under  control,  when  suddenly  the  Hun,  whom  I 
had  almost  forgotten  in  the  rush  of  undoing  his 
dirty  work,  flashed  into  sight  again. 

"  The  skipper  had  our  ship  zigzagging  so  short 
and  sharp  by  this  time  that  her  wake  looked  like 
the  teeth  of  a  big,  crazy  saw,  and  this  the  Hun  was 
unable  to  follow  closely  enough  to  get  a  fore- 
and-aft  sight  down  her  as  he  had  done  the  first 
time. 


258 


SEA-HOUNDS 


"  Coining  up  astern,  be  kicked  out  a  bomb  just 
before  be  was  over  ber  port  quarter,  but  it  only 
sbot  across  ber  diagonally,  and  struck  tbe  water 
on  ber  starboard  side,  about  a  bundred  feet  away. 
It  went  off  witb,  if  anytbing,  a  sbarper  crack  tban 
the  one  wbicb  bad  struck  tbe  poop,  and  tbe  foam 
geyser  tbe  explosion  sbot  up  flasbed  a  bloody  red 
for  tbe  instant  tbe  water  took  to  cbill  tbe  glow  of 
tbe  molten  thermit. 

"  Vanishing  even  more  quickly  was  a  ragged  red 
star  wbicb  fluttered  for  a  moment  beneath  tbe  sur- 
face of  the  water  itself  as  the  flame  stabs  shot  out 
in  all  directions  from  the  central  core  of  the  ex- 
plosion. 

"  No  water  was  thrown  aboard  us,  and,  near  as  I 
was  to  the  explosion  on  the  bridge,  the  rush  of  air 
could  hardly  be  felt.  Something  that  came  tinkling 
down  after  striking  the  side  of  the  chartbouse, 
however — I  picked  it  up  when  the  show  was  over- 
turned out  to  be  a  thin  fragment  of  the  steel  casing 
of  the  bomb. 

"A  similar  fragment,  twisted  into  a  peculiar 
shape,  struck  the  chest  of  a  man  leaning  over  the 
rail  in  the  waist  of  the  ship,  inflicting  a  slight  flesh 
wound  t"he  exact  shape  of  a  ragged  capital  '  C.' 

"  That  any  kind  of  a  living  man  could  really  be 
trying  to  destroy  a  mere  merchant  ship  in  cold 
blood  seemed  to  me  so  monstrous,  so  utterly  im- 
possible, that,  until  the  second  bomb  was  dropped, 
I  was  almost  ready  to  believe  that  the  first  had  been 


BOMBED!  259 

launched  by  accident.  From  then  on  we  knew  it 
was  a  fight  for  life. 

"  The  Hun  took  a  broader  swerve  in  bringing  his 
machine  round  for  the  next  charge,  and,  ten  times 
quicker  on  his  helm  than  we  were,  anticipated  our 
next  shift  of  course,  and  came  darting  down  on  an 
almost  straight  fore-and-aft  line  again.  The  sud- 
den cloud  of  our  foreblown  smoke — there  was  a 
following  wind  on  the  '  leg  '  they  had  put  her  on 
at  the  moment — which  engulfed  him  at  the  instant 
his  third  bomb  was  released  was  the  one  thing  in 
the  world  that  could  have  made  him  miss  so  easy  a- 
'  sitter.'  The  quick  <  side-flip  '  the  sharply-banked 
'plane  gave  to  the  dropped  missile  threw  it  wide 
by  twice  the  distance  the  second  had  missed  us. 
Though  the  detonation  rang  sharp  and  clear,  and 
though  a  vicious  spout  of  foam  shot  up,  I  could 
note  no  effect  of  the  thing  whatever  on  the  ship. 
Whether  that  was  his  last  bomb  or  not  we  could 
never  be  quite  sure.  At  any  rate,  it  was  the  last 
he  tried  to  drop  upon  us,  or  upon  any  other  ship 
for  that  matter. 

"  Just  why  he  returned  to  the  attack  with  his 
machine-gun  we  could  only  guess.  It  may  have 
been,  as  is  probable,  that  he  was  at  the  end  of  the 
small  supply  of  bombs  left  from  the  raid  he  was 
doubtless  returning  from. 

"  Again,  however,  it  is  just  possible  that  the 
fact  that  the  fire  was  being  got  under  control  on 
the  poop  impelled  him  to  adopt  an  attack  calcu- 


260 


SEA-HOUNDS 


la  ted  to  drive  the  plucky  chaps  who  were  fightinj 
it  to  cover. 

"  Anyhow,  flying  just  high  enough  to  clear  the 
tops  of  the  masts,  he  came  swooping  back,  and  it 
was  upon  the  men  trying  to  put  out  the  fire — now 
confined  to  the  wreckage — of  the  deckhouse — that 
he  seemed  to  concentrate  his  attack.  Two  or  three 
of  these  I  saw  fall  under  the  rain  of  bullets,  and 
among  them  was  our  freight  clerk,  who  had  also 
been  knocked  down  by  the  explosion  of  the  first 
bomb,  but  who,  being  hardly  stunned  by  the  shock, 
was  soon  on  his  feet  again  and  leading  the  fire- 
fighters. 

"  He  was  a  good  deal  of  a  character,  this  freight 
clerk.  Although  well  educated,  he  had  led  a  free 
and  easy  existence  in  various  parts  of  the  world. 
For  a  year  previous  to  the  war  he  had  been  a  cow- 
boy, and  some  queer  trait  in  his  character  made 
him  still  cling  to  the  poncho,  or  shoulder  blanket, 
and  baggy  trousers,  which  are  the  main  features  of 
the  Argentine  cow-puncher's  rigout.  It  was  the 
Wild  West  rig  that  made  me  notice  him  when  he 
was  knocked  down  by  the  bomb  and  later  by  the 
machine-gun  fire. 

"  He  was  scarcely  more  hurt  the  second  time  than 
the  first,  but  the  bullet  which  had  grooved  the  outer 
covering  of  his  brain-box  seemed  also  to  have  put 
a  new  idea  inside  it.  I  saw  him  pull  himself  to- 
gether in  a  dazed  sort  of  way  after  the  seaplane 
had  passed,  and  then  shake  off  the  hand  of  a  man 


BOMBED! 

who  tried  to  help  him,  and  dash  off  down  the  ladder, 
tumbling  to  cover,  I  thought. 

"  It  must  have  been  a  minute  or  two  later  that  I 
saw  him,  legs  wide  apart  to  keep  his  balance,  pump- 
ing back  at  the  Hun  (who  had  swung  close  again 
in  the  interim)  with  a  rifle — a  weapon  which  I 
later  learned  was  an  old  Winchester,  which  had 
been  rusting  on  the  wall  of  the  freight  clerk's 
cabin.  He  appeared  to  have  had  the  worst  of  the 
exchange,  for  when  I  looked  again  he  was  sitting, 
with  one  leg  crumpled  crookedly  under  him, 
propped  up  against  a  bitt. 

"He  looked  still  full  of  fight,  though,  and 
seemed  to  be  replenishing  the  magazine  of  the  rifle 
from  his  bandoliers. 

"  The  skipper  sent  me  below  to  stir  things  up  a 
bit  in  the  engine-room  at  this  juncture,  and  I  did 
not  see  my  cowboy  friend  until  he  had  fought  two 
or  three  more  unequal  rounds  and  was  squaring 
away,  groggy,  but  still  unbeaten,  for  what  proved 
the  final  one. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  he  ever  got  credit  for  it 
or  not,  but  the  Old  Man's  plan  of  action  at  this 
juncture  must  pretty  nearly  have  marked  a  mile- 
post  in  merchant  ship  defence  against  aerial  at- 
tack. We  had  been  instructed  in,  and  had  practised 
the  zigzag  before  this,  but  that  was  about  the  limit 
of  our  resources  in  this  line.  (  Squid '  tactics — 
smoke  screening — had  hardly  been  more  than 
thought  of  for  anything  but  destroyers.  Yet  the 


262 


SEA-HOUNDS 


wily  old  skipper,  literally  on  a  moment's  notice, 
brought  off  a  stunt  that  could  not  have  been  im- 
proved upon  if  it  had  been  the  result  of  a  year's 
thought  and  experience. 

"  The  instant  the  Hun  '  stumbled '  when  he 
struck  the  cloud  of  smoke  that  was  pouring  ahead 
of  us,  the  skipper's  ready  mind  began  evolving  a 
plan  still  further  to  besmudge  the  atmosphere.  To- 
day, with  special  instructions  and  special  stuff 
ready  to  hand,  a  merchant  captain,  if  he  needed  it, 
would  simply  tell  the  chief  engineer  to  '  make 
smoke  screen.' 

"  On  this  occasion  the  Old  Man  meant  the  same 
thing  when  I  heard  him  yelling  down  the  engine- 
room  voice-pipe  to  '  Smoke  up  like  hell ! ' 

"  About  all  the  chief  could  do  under  the  circum- 
stances was  to  stoke  faster  and  cut  down  the 
draught.  This  he  did  to  the  best  of  his  ability,  but 
the  screen  did  not  bear  much  resemblance  to  one  of 
those  almost  solid  streams  of  soot  a  modern  de- 
stroyer can  turn  out  by  spraying  oil  freely  and 
shutting  off  the  air. 

"  Such  as  it  was,  however,  the  Old  Man  made 
the  most  of,  and  by  steaming  down  the  wind  ac- 
complished the  double  purpose  of  cutting  down  the 
draught  fanning  the  fire  on  the  poop  and  keeping  a 
maximum  of  smoke  floating  above  the  ship. 

"  The  smudge  bothered  the  Hun,  but  by  no  means 
put  an  end  to  his  machine-gun  practice.  Except 
for  the  freight  clerk,  who  was  still  pumping  back 


BOMBED! 


263 


the  seaplane  every  time  it  swooped  over,  every 
one  on  the  poop  had  been  killed,  wounded,  or 
driven  to  cover,  and,  with  no  one  to  fight  it,  the 
fire  was  beginning  to  gain  new  headway. 

"  '  Not  good  'nuf  by  a  mile/  I  heard  the  Old  Man 
muttering  to  himself  as  he  eyed  the  quickly  thin- 
ning trail  of  smoke  from  the  funnels.  *  Must  do 
better'n  that  or  'taint  no  good.'  Then  I  saw  his 
bronzed  old  face  light  up. 

"  '  X ! '  he  shouted,  beckoning  me  to  his  side, 

*  duck  below,  clean  out  all  the  stuff  in  the  paint 
lockers  and  chuck  it  in  the  furnaces,  'specially  the 
oils  and  turps.  Jump  lively ! ' 

"  This  was  the  job  I  went  on  when  I  said  I  saw 
the  cowboy  crumpled  up  against  a  bitt,  but  still 
full  of  fight. 

"  Linseed  oil,  turpentine,  and  some  tins  of  fine 
lubricants — I  had  them  all  turned  out  of  the  fore- 
peak  and  carried,  rolled,  dragged,  or  tossed  down  to 
the  stokehold. 

"  Most  of  the  stuff  was  in  kegs  or  cans  small 
enough  to  go  through  a  furnace  door,  and  these 
we  threw  in  without  broaching  them.  The  Old  Man 
called  me  up  twice — the  first  time  to  say  that  there 
was  no  increase  in  smoke,  and  wanting  to  know 
why  I  was  so  slow ;  and  the  second  time  to  say  that 
he  had  just  got  a  bullet  through  his  shoulder,  and 
ordering  me  to  come  up  and  take  over,  as  he  was 
beginning  to  feel  groggy. 

"  There  was  an  ominous  crackling  and  sputtering 


264 


SEA-HOUNDS 


in  the  furnaces  as  I  sprang  for  the  ladder,  and  be- 
fore my  foot  was  on  the  lowermost  rung,  one  of 
the  doors  jumped  violently  up  on  its  top-swing 
hinges  from  the  kick  of  an  exploding  tin  or  keg  of 
oil.  As  it  fell  back  with  a  clang  the  swish  of  sud- 
den flame  smote  my  ears,  and  then  a  regular  salvo 
of  muffled  detonations.  The  last  picture  I  had  of 
the  boiler-room  was  of  the  stokers  trying  to  con- 
fine the  infernos  they  had  created  by  wedging  shut 
the  doors  with  their  scoops. 

"  The  whole  ship  was  a-shiver  with  the  roaring 
conflagration  in  her  furnaces  as  I  reached  the  upper 
deck,  and,  above  a  tufty,  white  frizzle  of  escaping 
steam,  rolled  a  greasy  jet  of  smoke  that  looked 
thick  enough  for  a  man  to  dance  a  hornpipe  on  it 
without  sinking  above  his  ankles.  I  found  the  Old 
Man,  with  a  dazed  sort  of  look  in  his  eyes,  and  his 
jaw  set  like  grim  death,  hanging  on  to  the  binnacle 
when  I  gained  the  bridge,  and  all  he  had  the 
strength  to  say,  before  slithering  down  in  a  heap, 
was,  '  Damn  good  smoke !  Carry  on — zigzag  down 
wind!  Think  blighter  has  finished.  Look  to — fire.' 

"  The  fact  that  the  Hun  was  now  circling  the  ship 
at  considerable  distance  had  evidently  made  the 
skipper  believe  that  he  had  come  to  the  end  of  his 
cartridges,  and  in  this  I  am  inclined  to  think  the 
Old  Man  was  right. 

"  Which  fire,  however,  he  referred  to  I  was  not 
quite  sure  about,  but,  in  my  own  mind,  I  was  rather 
more  concerned  about  the  one  I  had  started  with 


BOMBED!  265 

the  ship's  paint  than  the  one  the  Hun's  incendiary 
bomb  had  set  going.  Indeed,  the  '  fire  brigade,' 
which  had  taken  advantage  of  the  lull  to  get  a  hose 
playing  on  the  conflagration  on  the  poop,  was  rap- 
idly reducing  the  latter  to  a  black  mass  of  steaming 
embers.  The  cowboy  was  still  snuggled  up  aginst 
the  bitt,  which  he  used  to  rest  his  right  elbow  on 
in  the  occasional  shots  he  was  lobbing  over  at  the 
now  distantly  circling  enemy.  When  I  learned 
later  what  a  crack  shot  the  chap  really  was,  I  can- 
not say  that  I  blamed  the  Hun  for  his  discretion. 

"What  tempted  him  to  make  that  fatal  final 
swoop  we  never  knew.  It  may  have  been  sheer 
bravado,  or  he  may  have  been  trying  to  frighten 
off  the  fire-fighters  again.  Anyhow,  back  he  came, 
allowing  plenty  of  leeway  to  miss  my  smoke  screen, 
and  only  high  enough  to  clear  the  masts  by  forty 
or  fifty  feet. 

"  The  cowboy  saw  him  coming,  and  I  can  picture 
him  yet  as  he  lay  there  waiting,  with  his  cheek 
against  the  stock  of  that  old  Winchester,  and  fol- 
lowing the  neariug  'plane  through  its  sights.  With' 
the  rare  good  sense  of  your  real  hunter,  he  didn't 
run  any  risk  of  frightening  off  his  quarry  with  any 
premature  shots.  He  just  laid  doggo,  and  held  his 
fire. 

"  If  the  Hun  had  been  content  to  sit  tight  and 
keep  his  head  out  of  sight,  the  chances  are  nothing 
would  have  happened  to  him ;  but  the  temptation  to 
have  a  closer  look  at  his  handiwork  and  to  jeer  at 


J66 


SEA-HOUNDS 


Ms '  beaten  enemy  '  was  too  much  for  him.  Banking 
as  sharply  as  his  big  'plane  would  stand,  he  leaned 
out  head  and  shoulders  above  the  wrecked  poop, 
gave  a  jaunty  wave  of  the  hand,  and  opened  his 
mouth  to  shout  what  was  probably  some  sort  of 
Hunnish  pleasantry. 

"  The  crack  of  the  old  Winchester  reached  my 
ears  above  the  roar  of  the  seaplane's  engine,  and 
the  next  thing  I  was  clearly  conscious  of  was  the 
machine's  swerving — sidewise  and  downward — and 
plunging  straight  into  the  trailing  column  of  black 
smoke.  The  tip  of  its  left  wing  fouled  the  main 
truck,  but  it  still  kept  enough  balance  and  headway 
to  carry  past  and  clear  of  the  ship. 

"  It  then  slammed  down  into  the  water  two  or 
three  hundred  feet  off  our  starboard  bow,  and  it 
only  took  a  point  or  two  of  alteration  to  bring  it 
under  our  forefoot. 

"  The  old  ship  struck  the  mark  so  fair  that  she 
cut  the  wreckage  into  two  parts,  and  I  saw  frag- 
ments of  wings  and  fuselage  boiling  up  on  both 
sides  of  our  wake  astern.  I  gave  the  order  in  hot 
blood,  but  I  would  do  the  same  thing  again  if  I  had 
a  week  to  think  it  over  in,  just  as  I  would  go  out 
of  my  way  to  kill  a  poisonous  snake. 

"  Of  course  we  never  knew  definitely  who  was 
responsible  for  polishing  off  the  Hun.  For  a  while 
I  thought  it  probable  that  the  cowboy  had  only 
wounded  him,  and  that  his  swerve  into  the  smoke 
had  been  responsible  for  the  dive  into  the  sea,  where 


BOMBED! 


267 


ie  ship  put  the  finishing  touches  on  the  job.  But 
from  the  day  that  the  cowboy  showed  me  that  he 
could  hit  tossed-up  shillings  with  a  target-rifle 
four  times  out  of  five  I  have  been  inclined  to  believe 
his  assestion  that  he  '  plunked  the  blooinin' 
blighter  straight  through  the  nut/  and  that  I  and 
my  smoke  had  nothing  to  do  with  it. 

"  Neither  the  skipper  nor  the  cowboy  were  much 
hurt,  and  as  for  the  ship,  she  probably  suffered,  in 
the  long  run,  more  from  the  loss  of  her  paint  and  oil 
supply  than  from  the  Hun's  bomb  and  the  fire  it 
started." 


CHAPTER  XII 

AGAINST   ODDS 

THE  news  from  all  the  Fronts  had  been  dis- 
couraging  for   several    days,   and   it   only 
needed  that  staggering  announcement  of  the 
destruction  of  practically  a  whole  convoy  and  its 
escort,  in  the  North  Sea,  to  cap  the  climax  of  gloom. 
This  is  what  I  had  read  in  the  fog-hastened  autumn 
twilight,  by  the  feeble  glow  of   a  paint-masked 
street  lamp,  in  the  Stop  Press  column  of  the  eve- 
ning paper  a  Strand  newsboy  had  shoved  into  my 
hand. 


"  Two  very  fast  and  heavily-armed  German 
raiders  attacked  a  convoy  in  the  North  Sea,  about 
midway  between  the  Shetland  Islands  and  the  Nor- 
wegian coast,  on  October  17th.  Two  British  de- 
stroyers— H.M.  ships  Mary  Rose  (Lieutenant- 
Commander  Charles  L.  Fox)  and  Strongbow 
Lieutenant-Commander  Edward  Brooke) — which 
formed  the  anti -submarine  escort,  at  once  engaged 
the  enemy  vessels,  and  fought  until  sunk  after  a 
short  and  unequal  engagement.  Their  gallant 
action  held  the  German  raiders  sufficiently  long  to 
enable  three  of  the  merchant  vessels  to  effect  their 
escape.  It  is  regretted,  however,  that  five  Nor- 
268 


AGAINST  ODDS  269 

wegian,  one  Danish,  and  three  Swedish  vessels — 
all  unarmed — were  thereafter  sunk  by  gunfire 
without  examination  or  warning  of  any  kind  and 
regardless  of  the  lives  of  their  crew  or  passengers. 
.  .  .  Anxious  to  make  good  their  escape  before 
British  forces  could  intercept  them,  no  effort  was 
made  to  rescue  the  crews  of  the  sunk  British  de- 
stroyers or  the  doomed  merchant  ships,  but  British 
patrol  craft  which  arrived  shortly  afterward  res- 
cued some  thirty  Norwegians  and  others  of  whom 
details  are  not  yet  known.  .  .  .  The  enemy  raiders 
succeeded  in  evading  the  British  watching  squad- 
rons on  the  long  dark  nights,  both  in  their  hurried 
outward  dash  and  homeward  flight. 

"  It  is  regretted  that  all  the  eighty-eight  officers 
and  men  of  H.M.S.  Mary  Rose  and  forty-seven 
officers  and  men  of  H.M.S.  Strongbow  were  lost. 
All  the  next-of-kin  have  been  informed." 

A  few  days  later  a  second  Admiralty  report  an- 
nounced that  ten  survivors  of  the  Mary  Rose  had 
reached  Norway  in  an  open  boat,  and  also  gave  a 
few  further  particulars  of  the  action  in  which  she 
had  been  lost.  From  this  it  appeared  that  she  had 
been  many  miles  ahead  of  the  main  convoy  when  the 
latter  was  attacked,  and  that,  possessed  of  the 
speed,  with  many  knots  to  spare,  to  have  avoided 
an  action  in  which  the  odds  were  a  thousand  to  one 
against  her,  she  had  yet  deliberately  steamed  back 
and  thrown  down  the  gage  of  battle  to  the  heavily 
armed  German  cruisers.  Just  why  her  captain 
chose  the  course  he  did  was  not,  and  never  will  be, 
fully  explained.  He  went  down  with  his  ship,  and 


270 


SEA-HOUNDS 


to  none  of  those  who  survived  had  he  disclosed  what 
was  in  his  mind.  It  was  certainly  not  "  war,"  the 
critics  said,  but  they  also  agreed  that  it  was  "  mag- 
nificent "  enough  to  furnish  the  one  ray  of  bright- 
ness striking  athwart  the  sombre  gloom  of  the 
whole  disheartening  tragedy.  "  He  held  on  un- 
flinchingly," concluded  an  all-too-brief  story  of  the 
action  issued  to  the  public  through  the  Admiralty, 
some  time  later,  "  and  he  died,  leaving  to  the  annals 
of  his  service  an  episode  not  less  glorious  than  that 
in  which  Sir  Richard  Grenville  perished." 

From  the  time  I  read  these  Admiralty  announce- 
ments I  had  the  feeling  that  some,  if  not  all,  of 
those  ten  survivors  of  the  Mary  Rose  would  surely 
be  able  to  offer  more  of  an  explanation  of  why  her 
captain  took  her  into  battle  against  such  hopeless 
odds  than  any  that  had  yet  been  suggested  to  the 
public,  and  in  the  months  wrhich  followed  I  made 
what  endeavour  I  could  to  locate  and  have  a  talk 
with  one  of  them.  It  was  not  long  before  the  ten 
were  scattered  in  as  many  different  ships,  however, 
and  though  I  had  the  names  and  official  numbers 
of  two  or  three,  almost  a  year  went  by  before  I 
chanced  upon  the  first  of  them.  Indeed,  it  was  but 
a  day  or  two  previous  to  the  first  anniversary  of  the 
loss  of  the  Mary  Rose  and  Strongbow  and  the  de- 
struction of  the  Norwegian  convoy  that,  in  the 
course  of  a  visit  to  a  Submarine  Depot  Ship  at  one 
of  the  East  Coast  bases,  I  sauntered  forward  one 
evening  and  fell  into  conversation  with  a  sturdily 


AGAINST  ODDS 


271 


built,  steady-eyed  young  seaman — some  kind  of 
torpedo  rating,  evidently,  by  the  red  worsted 
"  mouldie  "  on  his  sleeve — who  had  just  clambered 
up  to  the  forecastle  from  the  deck  of  a  hulking  "  L  " 
moored  alongside. 

"  How  do  you  like  submarin-ing?  "  I  had  asked 
him,  by  way  of  getting  acquainted. 

"  Not  so  bad,  sir,"  he  replied  with  a  smile, 
"  though  it's  a  bit  stuffy  and  rather  slow  after  de- 
stroyers. With  them  there's  something  doing  all 
the  time.  I  was  in  one  of  the  '  M '  class  before  I 
volunteered  for  submarines.  P'raps  you've  heard 
of  her — the  Mary  Rose,  sunk  a  year  this  month, 
in " 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  I  cut  in,  as  the  ribbon  he  was 
wearing  caught  my  eye ;  "  you're  one  of  the  men 
I've  been  looking  for  for  a  number  of  months.  Ten, 
to  one  you're  Able  Seaman  Bailey,  who  received 
the  D.S.M.  for  his  part  in  the  action,  and  who  is 
specially  mentioned  in  the  Admiralty  story-'  (re- 
freshing my  memory  from  a  note-book)  "  for  hav- 
ing, <  despite  severe  shrapnel  wounds  in  the  leg, 
persisted  in  taking  his  turn  at  an  oar '  of  the  Nor- 
wegian lifeboat  which  picked  up  the  Mary  Rose 
survivors,  and  for  his  '  invincible  light-heartedness 
throughout.-  " 

A  flush  spread  under  his  "  submarine  pallor  "  at 
that  broadside,  but  he  admitted,  with  an  embar- 
rassed grin,  that  his  name  was  Bailey,  and  that  his 
decoration  was  awarded  for  something  or  other  in 


272 


SEA-HOUNDS 


connection  with  the  last  fight  of  the  Mary  Rose, 
though  for  just  what  he  had  never  quite  been  able 
to  figure  out.  In  the  hour  we  leaned  over  the  fore- 
castle rail  and  watched  the  North  Sea  fog-bank  roll 
up  the  estuary  with  the  incoming  tide,  this  is  the 
account  he  gave  me  of  the  things  which  he  himself 
saw  of  what  is  perhaps  the  most  gallantly  tragic 
of  all  the  naval  actions  of  the  war. 

"  They  hadn't  got  convoying  at  that  time  down 
to  the  system  it  is  carried  on  under  now,"  he  began, 
by  way  of  explanation,  "  and  the  only  fighting  ships 
with  this  one  were  the  Mary  Rose  and  Stronyboiv. 
The  Mary  was  of  the  same  class  as  the  '  M  .  .  .' 
over  there,  very  large  and  fast  and  well  armed  for 
a  destroyer,  but  never,  of  course,  built  for  any- 
thing like  a  give-and-take  fight  with  any  kind  of 
a  cruiser. 

"  There  was  also  an  armed  trawler  somewhere 
about,  but  it  had  no  chance  to  do  anything  but  pick 
up  survivors.  We  were  an  anti-submarine  escort, 
nothing  more,  and  were  not  intended  to  stand  off 
surface  raiders.  Of  course  provision  was  made 
against  these,  too,  but — well,  when  you  consider  the 
size  of  the  North  Sea  and  the  length  and  black- 
ness of  the  winter  nights,  the  only  wonder  is  that 
the  Huns  can't  buck  up  their  nerve  to  trying  for  a 
convoy  twice  a  week  instead  of  twice  a  year. 

"  We  had  escorted  the  north-bound  convoy  across 
to  Bergen,  and,  on  the  afternoon  of  the  16th  of 


AGAINST  ODDS 


273 


October,  had  picked  up  the  south-bound  and  headed 
back  for  one  of  the  home  ports.  Escorting  even  a 
squadron  of  warships  which  know  how  to  keep  sta- 
tion is  no  picnic  for  destroyers,  but  with  merchant- 
men it  is  a  dozen  times  worse.  It  is  bad  enough 
even  now,  but  a  year  ago,  before  these  little  packets 
had  had  much  experience,  it  was  enough  to  drive  a 
man  crazy.  Between  the  faster  ships  trying  to 
push  on,  and  the  slower  ones  falling  astern,  and 
breakdowns,  and  the  chance  of  trickery,  it  was  one 
continual  round  of  worry  from  the  time  we  left 
Base  to  our  return. 

"  This  time  was  no  exception  to  the  rule,  even 
before  the  big  smash.  One  of  the  Swedes — there 
were  Norwegian  and  Danish  as  well  as  Swedish 
ships  in  the  convoy,  but  we  called  them  all 
'  Swedes/  probably  because  it  was  shorter  and 
easier  to  say  than  Scandinavian — well,  one  of  the 
Swedes  shifted  cargo  along  about  dark  of  the  16th, 
with  the  result  that  the  slower  ships,  and  this  in- 
cluded most  of  the  convoy,  lagged  back,  while  sev- 
eral of  the  faster  ones  kept  on. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  this  was  done  by  order, 
or  whether  it  just  happened.  Anyhow,  the  Strong- 
~bow  remained  behind  with  the  slower  section,  while 
the  Mary  Rose  pushed  on  as  an  escort  for  the 
faster.  It  was  the  first  lot — the  main  convoy — 
that  the  raiders  attacked  first,  but  just  what  hap- 
pened I  did  not  see,  for  we  had  drawn  a  long  way 
ahead  of  them  in  the  course  of  the  night. 


274 


SEA-HOUNDS 


"When  I  came  up  to  stand  my  watch  as  anti- 
submarine lookout,  on  the  after  searchlight  plat- 
form, at  four  in  the  morning  of  the  17th,  I  remem- 
ber that  it  was  cloudy  and  thick  overhead,  but  with 
very  fair  visibility  on  the  water.  We  were  steaming 
along  comfortably  with  two  boilers,  which  gave  us 
a  big  margin  of  speed  over  everything  needed  to  cut 
our  zigzags  round  the  comparatively  slow  packets 
we  were  escorting.  The  sea  was  rough  but  almost 
dead  astern,  so  that  it  made  little  trouble — for 
the  moment,  that  is.  We  had  enough  of  it  a  little 
later. 

"  Along  toward  six  o'clock  the  visibility  began 
to  extend  as  it  grew  lighter,  but  there  was  no  sign 
of  the  main  convoy  when,  at  exactly  five-fifty,  I 
sighted  flashes  of  light  fluttering  along  the  northern 
horizon.  Although  my  ears  caught  no  sound  but 
the  throb  of  the  engines  and  the  churning  of  the 
screws,  I  had  no  doubt  they  were  from  gun-fire,  and 
reported  them  at  once  by  voice-pipe  to  the  Officer  of 
the  Watch — it  was  Gunner  T.,  if  I  remember  right 
— on  the  bridge.  The  captain  was  called,  and  must 
have  concluded  the  same,  for  he  at  once  ordered  her 
put  about  and  sounded  'Action  Stations.1  That 
took  me  to  the  foremost  torpedo  tubes,  where  my 
station  was  on  the  seat  between  the  tubes,  with  the 
voice-pipe  gear  fitted  to  my  ears.  Most  of  what 
followed  I  saw  from  there. 

"  In  some  of  the  published  accounts  of  the  action 
it  was  stated  that  the  captain  of  the  Mary  Rose 


AGAINST  ODDS 

;hought  that  the  flashes  he  saw  were  from  the  gun 
of  a  submarine  shelling  the  convoy,  so  that  when 
he  turned  back  it  was  with  the  expectation  of  meet- 
ing a  U-boat  rather  than  powerful  raiding  cruisers. 
I  don't  know  anything  definite  on  this  score,  of 
course,  as  I  only  heard  the  captain  speak  once  or 
twice  (and  then  to  give  orders)  before  he  went 
down  with  his  ship,  but  I  don't  think  it  could  pos- 
sibly have  been  true.  There  is  a  sort  of  fluttering 
ripple  to  the  flash  of  a  salvo  that  you  can't  pos- 
sibly mistake  for  that  of  the  discharge  of  a  single 
gun,  and  the  flashes  which  we  continued  to  see  for 
some  time  were  plainly  those  of  salvo  answering 
salvo.  The  flashes  from  the  mingled  salvoes  of  the 
heavy  guns  of  the  Hun  raiders  could  not  have  been 
confused  with  those  from  the  few  light  guns  of  the 
S 'trough ow  any  more  than  these  could  have  been 
taken  to  come  from  the  single  gun  of  a  U-boat. 
Everything  pointed  to  just  what  we  learned  had 
taken  place — a  cruiser  raid  on  the  convoy.  There 
was  nothing  in  the  flashes  to  suggest  a  submarine 
was  firing,  and  I  can't  see  how  the  captain  could 
have  had  any  such  impression.  It  was  enough  for 
him — yes,  and  for  all  of  us — to  know  that  our  con- 
sort was  in  trouble,  and  I  shall  always  think  that 
he  turned  back  to  help  the  Strongboic  with  the  full 
knowledge  that  he  would  have  to  face  hopeless 
odds.  He  was  a  proper  gentleman,  was  Captain 
Fox,  and  so  there  was  nothing  else  that  he  could 
have  done;  and,  what's  more,  there's  nothing  else 


276 


SEA-HOUNDS 


that  we  men  in  the  Mary  Rose — or  any  other 
British  sailors,  for  that  matter — would  have  had 
him  do.  It  would  have  been  against  all  the  tradi- 
tions of  the  Navy  to  have  done  anything  else  but 
stick  by  a  consort  to  the  last." 

Able  Seaman  Bailey  smote  resoundingly  the  hol- 
low palm  of  his  left  hand  with  the  fist  of  his  right  as 
he  spoke  those  last  words,  and  then,  in  a  quieter 
voice,  took  up  the  thread  of  the  story  again. 

"  That  turn  through  sixteen  points  brought  the 
seas,  which  we  had  been  running  before  all  night, 
right  ahead,  and  all  in  a  minute  she  was  being 
swept  fore-and-aft  by  every  second  or  third  of  them. 
Anxious  as  the  captain  was  to  drive  her  full  speed 
(which  would  have  been  a  pretty  terrific  gait,  let 
me  tell  you,  for  the  '  Ms '  are  very  fast),  it  was  no 
use. 

"  Plates  and  rivets  simply  wouldn't  stand  the 
strain  of  the  green  water  that  anything  like  full 
speed  would  have  bored  her  into,  and  she  was 
finally  slowed  down  to  about  twenty  knots  as  the 
best  she  could  do  without  flooding  the  decks  and 
making  it  impossible  to  serve  the  guns  and  torpedo 
tubes.  As  she  was  good  for  a  lot  more  than  this 
with  two  boilers,  I  doubt  very  much  if  the  third 
was  ever  '  flashed  up.' 

"  The  first  I  saw  of  the  ships  which  turned  out  to 
be  the  enemy  was  some  masts  and  funnels  to  the 
northward  and  about  a  couple  of  points  on  the  star- 
board bow.  They  were  making  very  little  smoke, 


AGAINST  ODDS 


277 


probably  because  they  were  oil-burners.  As  we 
were  steering  on  practically  opposite  courses,  we 
closed  each  other  very  quickly,  and  they  must  have 
been  about  four  miles  off  when  the  captain,  evi- 
dently becoming  suspicious  of  their  appearance, 
challenged.  As  there  was  no  reply,  fire  was  opened 
immediately  afterward  by  the  foremost  gun,  the 
course  at  the  same  time  being  altered  a  point  or 
two  to  starboard,  so  that  the  other  two  guns  would 
bear.  The  rest  of  our  firing  was,  I  think,  by 
salvoes,  or  rather,  it  was  until  all  but  the  after 
gun  were  knocked  out  by  the  Hun's  shells. 

"  Our  first  shots,  fired  at  about  7,000  yards,  were 
short;  but  as  the  salvoes  which  followed  began  to 
fall  closer  to  their  targets,  I  saw  the  Huns  alter 
to  a  course  more  or  less  parallel  to  ours,  but  plainly 
veering  away  so  as  to  open  out  the  range.  This 
gave  me  the  first  silhouette  view  I  had,  and  I  did 
not  need  a  glass  to  recognize  them  at  once  as  Ger- 
man, the  three  straight  funnels  and  the  t  swan ' 
bows  being  quite  unmistakable.  Some  of  our 
shots  fell  close,  but  I  saw  nothing  I  could  be  cer- 
tain of  calling  a  hit. 

"  However,  I  knew  that  it  was  not  the  guns  the 
captain  was  counting  on,  but  that  he  was  trying 
to  close  to  a  range  and  bearing  that  might  offer  a 
chance  to  get  home  with  a  torpedo. 

"  Why  the  Huns  did  not  open  fire  before  they  did 
I  have  never  quite  been  able  to  figure  out,  unless  it 
was  that  they  hoped  to  avoid  an  action  and  so  be 


278 


SEA-HOUNDS 


free  to  pursue  and  sink  the  leading  ships  of  the 
convoy — the  faster  ones  the  Mary  Rose  had  been 
escorting — without  interference.  If  that  is  so, 
Captain  Fox's  sacrifice  was  not  in  vain,  for  all  of 
these  ships  escaped  destruction  and  reached  port  in 
safety.  Even  as  it  was,  they  had  no  stomach  for 
an  action  at  any  range  close  enough  to  give  us  any 
chance  to  damage  them  either  with  gun-fire  or  tor- 
pedoes. Their  plan — proper  enough  in  its  way,  I 
suppose — was  simply  to  pound  us  to  pieces  with  the 
shells  of  their  powerful  long-range  guns,  and  not 
to  close  to  finish  us  off  until  all  our  guns  and  tor- 
pedo tubes  were  out  of  action.  As  one  good  salvo 
from  either  of  them  was  more  than  enough  to  do  the 
job,  there  wasn't  much  hope  of  our  getting  in  close 
enough  to  do  them  serious  harm.  It  was  a  bold 
bid  the  captain  made  for  it,  though. 

"  The  course  we  were  nowT  on  brought  the  seas 
more  abeam  than  ahead,  so  that  we  had  been  able 
to  shake  out  several  more  knots  of  speed,  and  this 
the  captain  tried  to  use  to  shorten  the  range.  We 
were  actually  closing  them  at  a  good  rate  (though 
I  wouldn't  go  so  far  as  to  say  they  were  putting  on 
all  their  speed  to  avoid  it),  when  the  Huns  began 
firing  their  ranging  shots.  By  this  time  we  had 
reached  a  position  from  which  there  was  a  very  fair 
bearing  to  launch  a  mouldie,  and  we  were  busy  get- 
ting one  ready  to  slip  while  the  fall  of  shot  came 
bounding  nearer  and  nearer  to  us.  I  remember,  in 
a  vague  sort  of  way,  that  the  first  salvo  was  short  by 


AGAINST  ODDS  279 

a  long  way,  tliat  the  second  was  much  nearer,  and 
that  the  third,  closely  bunched  and  exploding 
loudly  on  striking  the  sea,  threw  up  smoke-stained 
spouts  which  fell  back  into  each  other  to  form  a 
wall  of  water  which  completely  blotted  out  the 
enemy  for  a  second  or  two.  Then  we  turned  loose 
the  torpedo,  and  at  almost  the  same  instant  two  or 
three  shells  from  a  '  straddling '  salvo  hit  fair  and 
square  and  just  about  lifted  the  poor  little  Mary 
out  of  the  water. 

"  All  in  a  second  the  ship  seemed  to  disappear  in 
clouds  of  smoke  and  escaping  steam,  and  it  is  only 
natural  that  my  recollections  of  the  order  in  which 
things  happened  after  that  are  a  good  deal  con- 
fused. 

"  I  seem  to  have  some  memory  of  receiving  from 
the  bridge  the  order  to  fire  that  torpedo,  but  if  that 
was  so,  it  was  the  last  order  I  did  receive  from 
there,  for  the  explosion  of  one  of  the  shells  carried 
the  voice-pipe  away  (though  I  did  not  twig  it  at 
the  time),  and  from  then  on  it  was  mostly  the  siz- 
zle of  spurting  steam  that  came  to  my  ears. 

"  There  are  two  reasons  why  I  know  that  first 
salvo  hit  us  after  the  torpedo  was  launched,  though 
there  could  not  have  been  more  than  a  fraction  of  a 
second  between  one  and  the  other.  The  first  is  that 
one  of  the  shells  carried  away  the  lip  of  the  tube 
before  penetrating  the  deck  and  cutting  a  steam- 
pipe.  If  the  mouldie  had  been  in  the  tube  it  could 
not  have  missed  being  exploded ;  or,  if  by  a  miracle 


280 


SEA-HOUNDS 


that  had  not  happened,  the  tube  was  so  much 
buckled  that  it  could  not  have  been  operated.  The 
second  reason  was  that  fragments  from  that  shell, 
besides  wounding  me  in  the  leg,  even  killed  or  blew 
overboard  the  rest  of  the  crew,  so  that  there  would 
have  been  no  one  to  get  a  mouldie  away  even  if  the 
tubes  had  been  in  working  order.  I  remember  dis- 
tinctly seeing  the  torpedo  hit  the  water,  but  I  have 
no  recollection  of  seeing  it  steady  to  depth  and  be- 
gin to  run.  As  that  is  the  main  thing  you  always 
watch  for,  I  can  only  account  for  the  fact  I  did  not 
see  it  by  supposing  that  first  hit  came  before  the 
torpedo  began  to  run. 

"  The  shock  of  the  explosion  did  not  knock  me  off 
my  seat,  and  a  wound  from  a  jagged  piece  of  shell 
casing,  though  it  was  serious  enough  to  put  me  out 
of  commission  for  five  months,  felt  only  like  a  sharp 
prick  on  my  leg.  My  pal,  Able  Seaman  French, 
collapsed  in  a  limp  heap  under  the  tubes,  and 
though  I  saw  no  blood  or  signs  of  a  wound,  and 
though  I  never  saw  a  man  killed  before,  I  knew  he 
was  done  for.  I  don't  know  to  this  day  where  he 
was  hit.  The  man  whose  station  was  at  the  breech- 
blocks I  never  saw  again,  living  or  dead,  so  I  think 
he  must  have  caught  the  unbroken  force  of  the  ex- 
plosion and  been  blown  back  right  over  the  star- 
board side. 

"  This  shell,  in  bursting  the  main  steam-pipe, 
probably  had  the  most  to  do  with  bringing  us  to 
stop,  though  another  (I  think  of  the  same  salvo) 


AGAINST  ODDS 


281 


exploded  in  Number  Three  boiler-room  and  started 
a  big  fire,  probably  from  the  oil.  The  clouds  of 
black  smoke  and  steam  rising  'midships  made  it  im- 
possible to  see  what  was  going  on  there.  I  saw 
some  of  the  crew  of  the  'midships  gun  struggling 
in  the  water,  and  took  it  that  they  must  have  been 
blown  there. 

"  That  gun  was  out  of  action,  anyway,  and,  be- 
cause I  did  not  hear  it  firing,  I  assumed  that  the 
foremost  one  had  also  gone  wrong.  The  after  gun 
was  firing  for  all  it  was  worth,  though,  and  con- 
tinued to  do  so  right  up  to  the  end. 

"  That  one  salvo  pretty  well  finished  the  Mary 
Rose  as  a  fighting  ship,  and  as  soon  as  the  Huns 
saw  the  shape  we  were  in,  they  began  to  close,  firing 
as  they  came.  But  even  then  they  were  careful  to 
choose  a  direction  of  approach  on  which  the  after 
gun  could  not  be  brought  to  bear.  With  the  fore- 
most tubes  out  of  action,  and  no  crew  to  serve  them 
in  any  case,  there  was  nothing  for  me  to  do  but  sit 
tight  and  wait  for  orders.  So  I  just  chucked  my 
head-gear,  which  was  no  longer  of  use  with  the 
voice-pipes  gone,  and  settled  back  in  my  seat  to 
watch  the  show  and  wait  till  I  was  wanted.  There 
was  really  nothing  to  stay  there  for,  but  it  was  my 
*  Action  Station,'  and  I  knew  it  was  the  place  I 
would  be  looked  for  if  I  was  needed.  On  the  score 
of  cover,  one  place  is  as  good  an  another — in  a  de- 
stroyer, anyhow. 

"  It  must  have  been  the  fact  that  the  after  gun 


282 

was  the  only  one  still  in  action  that  brought  the 
captain  back  from  the  bridge.  There  was  really 
nothing  to  keep  him  on  the  bridge,  anyway.  He 
seemed  to  be  making  a  sort  of  general  round,  try- 
ing to  see  what  shape  things  were  in  and  bucking 
everybody  up.  He  was  as  cool  and  cheery  as  if  it 
was  an  ordinary  target  practice,  with  no  Hun 
cruisers  closing  in  to  blow  us  out  of  the  water.  I 
saw  him  clapping  some  of  the  after  gun's  crew  on 
the  back,  and  when  he  came  along  to  the  foremost 
tubes,  not  noticing  probably  that  I  was  the  only  one 
left  there,  he  sung  out:  *  Stick  it,  lads;  we're  not 
done  yet.'  Those  were  his  exact  words.  I  remem- 
ber grinning  to  myself  at  being  called  '  lads/ 

"  But  we  were  done,  even  then.  The  Huns  were 
inside  of  a  mile  by  now,  and  firing  for  the  water- 
line,  evidently  trying  to  put  us  down  just  as 
quickly  as  they  could. 

"  All  their  misses  were  *  shorts.'  I  don't  remem- 
ber a  single  '  over/  They  were  still  taking  no  un- 
necessary chances.  As  soon  as  they  were  close 
enough  to  see  that  our  torpedo  tubes  were  probably 
jammed  to  port,  they  altered  course  and  crossed 
our  bows  and  steamed  past  the  other  side,  where 
there  was  no  chance  of  our  slipping  over  a  mouldie 
at  them. 

"  We  were  already  settling  rapidly,  with  a  heavy 
list  to  port,  and  as  soon  as  the  captain  saw  she  was 
finished,  he  gave  the  order :  '  Abandon  ship.  Every 
man  for  himself ! '  Those  were  the  last  words  I 


AGAINST  ODDS 


283 


Heard  him  speak.  He  went  below  just  after  that  to 
see  about  ditching  the  secret  books,  I  believe,  and 
when  I  saw  him  again  it  was  just  before  she  sank, 
and  he  was  pacing  the  quarterdeck  and  talking 
quietly  with  the  First  Lieutenant, 

"  As  our  only  boat  had  been  smashed  to  kindling- 
wood,  there  was  nothing  to  it  but  to  take  to  the 
Carley  Floats,  and  the  first  thing  I  did  after  hear- 
ing the  order  to  abandon  ship  was  to  see  to  cutting 
one  of  these  loose.  On  account  of  our  oilskins  and 
life-preservers,  neither  myself  nor  any  of  the  three 
or  four  lads  from  the  after  gun's  crew  that  ran  to 
the  float  with  me  could  get  at  our  clasp-knives. 
Luckily,  one  of  the  Ward  Koorn  stewards  came  to 
the  rescue  with  three  silver-plated  butter-knives 
from  the  pantry,  and  with  these  we  finally  managed 
to  worry  our  way  through  the  lashings.  Then  we 
pitched  the  little  webbed  '  dough-nut '  (as  the 
Carley  Floats  are  called)  over  the  settling  stern 
and  jumped  after  it.  Four  or  five  minutes  later, 
after  heeling  slowly  to  port  through  fifty  or  sixty 
degrees,  she  gave  a  sudden  lurch  and  went  down, 
turning  completely  over  as  she  sank,  so  that  her 
bottom  showed  for  a  few  seconds.  The  captain, 
who  could  have  followed  us  just  as  well  as  not, 
seemed  to  make  no  effort  to  save  himself,  and  must 
have  gone  down  with  her.  I  can't  help  believing 
that  was  the  way  he  wanted  it  to  happen. 

"  We  had  clambered  into  the  float  as  fast  as  we 
could,  and  I  think  some  one  must  have  said  some- 


284 


SEA-HOUNDS 


thing  about  the  danger  of  being  caught  over  an 
exploding  depth-charge,  for  we  were  paddling  (all 
of  these  floats  have  short-handled  paddles  lashed  to 
their  webbing)  away  from  the  ship  as  fast  as  we 
could  when  she  went  down.  Someone  remembered 
that  one  of  the  '  ash  cans '  had  been  set  on  the 
'  ready  -  when  we  went  to  '  Action  Stations,'  and 
no  one  recalled  seeing  it  thrown  back  to  '  safe '  be- 
fore we  went  overboard.  It  was  an  anxious 
moment,  waiting  after  she  ducked  under  the  sea, 
for  we  had  not  been  able  to  paddle  more  than  a 
hundred  yards,  and  the  detonation  of  a  depth- 
charge  had  been  known  to  paralyse  men  swimming 
in  the  water  at  twice  that  distance.  Luckily,  this 
particular  charge  must  have  been  set  for  a  con- 
siderable depth,  and  it  is  also  possible  that  the  hull 
of  the  ship  absorbed  or  deflected  some  of  its  force. 
At  any  rate,  the  shock  of  it,  when  it  came,  though  it 
knocked  us  violently  against  each  other  and  left 
,a  tingling  sensation  on  the  skin  of  all  the  sub- 
merged part  of  one's  body,  did  not  do  anyone 
serious  injury. 

"  When  we  came  to  count  noses,  there  turned  out 
to  be  eight  of  us  on  the  float — two  sub-lieutenants, 
the  captain's  steward,  myself,  and  the  remnants  of 
the  crew  of  the  after  gun.  A  few  minutes  later  we 
sighted  a  couple  of  men  who  looked  to  be  struggling 
in  the  water,  but  turned  out  to  be  supporting  them- 
selves on  a  fragment  of  <  dough-nut/  which  had 
broken  loose  when  the  ship  sank.  That,  strange 


AGAINST  ODDS 


285 


to  say,  was  the  only  bit  of  wreckage  that  came  to 
the  surface.  We  took  these  men  aboard,  and  the 
ten  of  us  weighted  the  overloaded  float  so  that  is 
submerged  till  the  water  reached  our  armpits.  We 
were  a  good  deal  better  off  than  it  would  seem, 
though,  for  the  most  of  us  were  heavily  dressed,  and 
the  animal  heat  of  a  man  keeps  him  warm  for  a  long 
time  under  oilskins  and  wool.  The  only  ones  that 
suffered  much  were  a  couple  of  lads  who  didn't  have 
any  more  sense  than  to  ditch  most  of  their  togs 
before  they  went  over  the  side.  They  said  it  was 
so  as  not  to  be  hampered  in  swimming — as  if  they 
expected  to  do  the  '  Australian  crawl '  to  Nor- 
way or  the  Shetlands !  These  two  did  begin  to  get 
a  bit  down-hearted  and  '  shivery '  when  the  cold 
struck  into  the  marrow  of  their  bones,  and  it  was 
with  the  idea  of  bucking  them  up  a  peg  or  two  that 
we  started  singing.  No,  I  don't  just  remember  all 
that  we  did  warble,  except,  I'm  glad  to  say,  that 
'Tipperary'  wasn't  on  the  programme,  and  that 
this  did  include  two  or  three  hymns.  You're  quite 
right.  There's  nothing  very  warming  to  a  chilled 
man  in  hymns,  and  I'm  not  trying  to  account  for 
why  we  sang  them.  The  fact  remains  that  we  did, 
just  the  same,  and  that  we  all,  including  the  chaps 
in  their  underclothes,  lived  to  sing  again. 

"  There  was  a  bit  of  a  disappointment  when  an 
armed  trawler,  which  was  evidently  searching  for 
survivors,  passed  within  a  mile  without  sighting  us 
or  hearing  our  shouts,  but  with  the  life-boat  of  one 


of  the  sunk  Norwegian  steamers  we  bad  better 
luck.  She  came  bowling  along  under  sail  about  ten 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  and,  on  sighting  the  black 
silk  handkerchief  we  hoisted  at  the  end  of  a  paddle- 
blade,  eased  olT  her  sheet  and  stood  over  to  pick  us 
up.  As  there  were  only  six  men  in  her,  we  were  not 
badly  ofl'  for  room,  while  the  store  of  biscuit  and 
polled  stulT-  to  say  nothing  of  smokes — they  had 
managed  to  throw  aboard  before  their  ship  sunk 
was  more  than  enough  for  the  two  days  that  it  took 
us  to  row  and  sail  to  Bergen." 


CHAPTER  XIII 


ROUNDING   UP  FRITZ 

THERE  are  only  two  or  three  conditions  under 
which  a  destroyer  can  hope  to  surprise  a  U- 
boat  on  the  surface,  and  none  of  these  is  ap- 
proximated at  the  end  of  a  clear  North  Sea  summer 
afternoon  with  the  stalking  craft  trying  to 
approach  from  a  direction  which  silhouettes  its 
leanlv  purposeful  profile  against  the  golden  glim- 
mer of  the  sunset  clouds.  This  particular  cap- 
sule of  Kultur,  rising  with  typical  Hunnish 
effrontery  for  his  evening  constitutional  in  an 
especially  well-watched  area  while  it  was  yet  broad 
daylight,  still  had  the  advantage  of  visibility  suffi- 
ciently on  his  side  to  make  the  thing  a  good  deal 
less  risky  than  it  looked.  The  skipper,  doubtless 
coolly  puffing  his  pipe  as  he  lounged  over  the  rail 
of  the  bridge  and  filled  his  lungs  with  fresh  air, 
must  have  seen  the  masts  and  funnels  of  the  speed- 
ing Flash  for  a  good  half  hour  before  the  latter's 
look-out  sang  out  that  he  had  picked  up  the  con- 
ning-tower  of  what  looked  to  be  a  U-boat  two 
points  off  the  starboard  bow;  so  that  all  that  was 
needed  was  the  change  of  course  which  followed 
that  report  to  give  Fritz  fair  warning  that  it  was 

287 


288 


SEA-HOUNDS 


time  to  hide  his  head  for  a  while.  Indeed,  he  must 
have  been  going  down  even  as  he  was  sighted,  for 
it  was  the  matter  of  but  a  very  few  seconds  more 
before  the  Flash  found  herself  tearing  at  upwards 
of  a  thousand  yards  a  minute  into  an  empty  sea. 

Under  the  circumstances,  it  is  probable  we  gave 
that  Fritz  a  fairly  good  run  for  his  money  in 
showering  the  spot  where  he  had  disappeared  with 
what  depth-charges  we  could  spare,  and  then,  like 
a  fox-terrier  after  a  rat,  standing  by  and  "  watch- 
ing the  hole."  Unluckily,  we  had  used  a  good  part 
of  our  stock  of  "  cans "  the  day  before,  when  a 
rather  more  promising  opportunity  for  attack  had 
offered  itself,  while  as  for  "  watching  the  hole," 
this  particular  patch  of  the  North  Sea  chanced  to 
be  one  in  which  that  way  of  playing  the  game  was 
fraught  with  special  difficulties  because  it  was  suffi- 
ciently shallow  for  a  submarine  to  lie  doggo  on 
the  bottom  without  danger  of  having  its  shell 
crushed  in  by  the  pressure  of  the  water.  This 
defeated  the  uncannily  sure  way  of  tracking  the 
U-boat  down  by  "  listening,"  and  demanded  another 
form  of  special  treatment,  which  we  were  not, 
however,  at  the  moment  prepared  to  administer. 

Slim  as  the  chance  was,  the  captain  was  reluc- 
tant to  leave  while  any  hope  remained,  and  it  was 
only  a  signal  ordering  the  Flash  to  join  in  some 
other  work  that  had  turned  up  (a  destroyer  is 
subject  to  as  many  kinds  of  summons  as  a  country 
doctor)  that  took  him  off  in  the  end.  Mooring  a 


ROUNDING  UP  FRITZ 


289 


buoy  to  mark  the  spot  for  "  future  reference,''  the 
captain  saw  her  headed  off  on  the  course  she  was 
to  hold  till  daybreak,  and  then  took  me  down  to  the 
Chart  House  for  a  bowl  of  ship's  cocoa  before  turn- 
ing in.  It  was  some  question  I  asked  about  the 
practice  of  placing  buoys  over  possible  U-boat 
graveyards,  to  make  it  easy  to  resume  investiga- 
tions if  desired,  that  started  him  on  a  train  of  anti- 
submarine reminiscence  that  led  back  to  one  of  the 
smartest  achievements  of  its  kind  in  the  whole 
course  of  the  sea  war. 

"  There  are  times,"  he  said,  leaning  back  on  the 
narrow  couch  that  served  as  his  "  sea-bed,"  and 
bracing  with  outstretched  legs  against  the  twisting 
roll,  "  that  a  Fritz  will  do  things  that  would  lead  a 
superficial  observer  to  think  that  he  had  a  sense  of 
humour.  Of  course,  we  know  that  he  hasn't  any- 
thing of  the  kind  (any  more  than  he  has  honour, 
sportsmanship,  decency,  or  any  other  of  the  attri- 
butes of  a  normal  civilised  human  being).  But  the 
illusion  is  there  just  the  same,  especially  when  he 
tries  on  such  little  stunts  as  the  one  he  incubated 
a  couple  of  months  ago  in  connection  with  a  buoy 
I  dropped  to  mark  the  spot  where  there  was  a 
chance  that  my  depth-charges  might  have  sent  him 
to  the  bottom. 

"  It  was  just  about  such  an  '  indeterminate '  sort 
of  a  strafe  as  the  one  we've  just  had — no  chance  for 
gun-fire,  not  much  to  go  by  for  planting  depth- 
charges,  and,  in  the  end,  nothing  definite  to  indicate 


290 


SA-HOUNDS 


that  any  good  lias  been  done.  So,  in  case  it  was 
decided  that  my  report  was  of  a  nature  to  justify 
further  looking  into,  I  left  a  securely  moored  buoy 
to  furnish  a  guide  as  to  where  to  begin,  quite  as 
we  have  to-night.  Well,  it  chanced  that  the  S.N.O. 
at  Base  reckoned  that  there  was  just  enough  of  a 
hope  to  warrant  following  up.  Indeed,  you  may 
be  sure  there  isn't  much  that  isn't  followed  up 
these  days,  now  that  wre've  got  our  whole  compre- 
hensive plan  into  operation  and  adequate  craft  to 
support  it  with.  So  he  sent  out  quite  a  little  fleet 
of  us — craft  fitted  to  do  all  the  various  little  odds 
and  ends  of  things  that  help  to  make  sure  one  way 
or  the  other  what  has  really  happened  to  Fritz. 
Luckily,  Flash  was  able  to  return  with  them.  If 
she  had  not — if  someone  who  had  not  seen  the  lay 
of  things  after  the  strafe  the  night  before  had  not 
been  along  to  '  draw  comparisons ' — Fritz's  little 
joke  might  have  turned  out  a  good  deal  more 
pointed  than  it  did. 

"  We  picked  up  the  buoy  without  any  difficulty, 
as  the  day  was  fine  and  the  sea  fairly  smooth — just 
the  weather  one  wanted  for  that  kind  of  work. 
While  we  were  still  a  mile  or  more  distant,  the  look- 
out reported  a  broad  patch  of  oil  spreading  out  from 
the  buoy  for  several  hundred  yards  on  all  sides. 
This  became  visible  from  the  bridge  presently,  and 
at  almost  the  same  time  my  glass  showed  fragments 
of  what  appeared  to  be  wreckage  floating  both  in 
and  beyond  the  '  sleek '  of  oil.  Now  if  there  had 


ROUNDING  UP  FRITZ 


291 


been  any  evidence  whatever  of  either  oil  or  wreck- 
age the  night  before  I  should  not  have  failed  to 
hail  this  morning's  exhibit  with  a  glad  whoop  and 
nose  right  in  to  investigate.  But  as,  when  I  gave 
up  the  fight,  I  had  dropped  that  buoy  into  an  ex- 
tremely clean  patch  of  water — even  after  the  stir- 
ring my  depth-charges  had  given  it — the  plenitude 
of  flotsam  did  not  fail  to  arouse  a  certain  amount 
of  suspicion. 

"  Ordering  the  sloops  and  trawlers  to  stand-off- 
and-on  at  a  safe  distance,  I  went  with  the  Flash  to 
have  a  look  at  a  number  of  fragments  that  were 
floating  a  couple  of  cables'  lengths  away  from  the 
buoy.  A  piece  of  box — evidently  a  preserved  fruit 
or  condensed  milk  case — with  German  letters  sten- 
cilled across  one  end  was  undoubtedly  of  eflemy 
origin,  as  was  also  a  biscuit  tin  with  patches  of  its 
gaudy  paper  still  adhering  to  it.  I  did  not  like  the 
careful  way  the  cover  of  the  latter  had  been  put  on, 
however,  and,  besides,  tins  and  cases  are  quite  the 
sort  of  thing  any  submarine  throws  over  just  as 
fast  as  it  is  through  with  them.  It  was  some  real 
wreckage  I  was  looking  for,  and  this  it  presently 
appeared  that  I  had  found  when  the  bow  wave 
threw  aside  a  deeply  floating  fragment  of  what — 
even  before  we  picked  it  up — I  recognised  as  newly 
split  teak.  Closer  inspection  revealed  the  fact  that 
it  was  newly  split  all  right,  but  also  the  fact  that 
an  axe  or  hatchet  had  had  a  good  deal  to  do  with 
the  splitting.  What  had  probably  been  a  part  of  a 


292 


SEA-HOUNDS 


bunk  or  locker  had  apparently  been  prised  off  with 
a  bar  and  then  chopped  up  into  jagged  strips.  At- 
tempts to  obliterate  the  marks  of  bar  and  axe  by 
pounding  them  against  some  rough  metal  surface 
had  been  too  hasty  and  crude  to  effect  their 
purpose. 

"  *  That  settles  it/  I  said  to  myself.  '  Fritz  is  try- 
ing to  play  a  little  joke  on  us  by  making  us  think 
he  is  lying  blown-up  on  the  bottom,  while,  in  fact, 
he  is  probably  lying  off  somewhere  waiting  to  slip 
a  slug  into  one  of  the  most  likely  looking  of  the 
salvage  ships.  Now  that  we've  twigged  the  game, 
however,  we'll  have  to  do  what  we  can  to  defeat 
it.'  As  senior  officer,  I  ordered  the  three  destroyers 
present  to  start  screening  in  widening  circles,  while 
— on  the  off-chance  that  there  really  was  a  wreck 
on  the  bottom — a  pair  of  trawlers  were  sent  to  drag 
about  the  bottom  under  the  messy  patch  with  an 
1  explosive  sweep.' 

"  My  diagnosis  was  quite  correct  as  far  as  it 
went,  but  it  did  not  go  quite  far  enough ;  still — by 
the  special  intervention  of  the  sweet  little  cherubim 
who  sits  up  aloft  to  keep  watch  o'er  the  life  of  poor 
Jack — my  plan  of  operation  was  quite  as  sound  as 
if  I  had  all  the  facts  of  the  case  spread  out  before 
me.  Had  the  U-boat  really  been  lurking  round 
waiting  for  a  pot  at  some  of  the  ships  trying  to  save 
his  supposed  remains — something  that  we  never 
gathered  any  definite  evidence  on — our  screening 
tactics  would  probably  have  prevented  his  success; 


ROUNDING  UP  FRITZ 


293 


while  the  trawlers,  with  their  sweep,  furnished  the 
best  antidote  for  the  little  surprise  party  that  he 
already  had  prepared  for  us. 

"  Scarcely  had  the  trawlers  entered  the  oily  area 
than  the  jar  of  a  heavy  under-sea  explosion  jolted 
against  the  bottom  of  the  Flash,  which,  a  thousand 
yards  distant,  was  just  beginning  to  work  up  to 
full  speed.  Almost  immediately  three  or  four  other 
explosions  followed,  coming  so  close  together  as  to 
make  one  rippling  detonation  of  tremendous  vio- 
lence. An  instant  later  I  saw  several  columns  of 
grimy  foam  shoot  skyward,  two  or  three  of  them  so 
close  together  that  they  seemed  to  '  boil '  into  each 
other  as  they  spilled  and  spread  in  falling.  Al- 
though neither  of  the  trawlers  appeared  to  be 
immediately  over  any  of  the  explosions,  both  of 
them  received  terrific  shocks.  One  of  them  I  dis- 
tinctly saw  rear  up  till  it  seemed  almost  to  be 
balanced  on  its  rudder-post  as  a  round  hump  of 
green  water  drove  under  it,  while  the  scuppers  of 
the  other  spurted  white  as  they  cleared  the  flood 
that  a  spreading  foam  geyser  had  thrown  upon  the 
deck.  It  seemed  impossible  that  either  of  them 
could  survive  such  shocks  as  I  knew  they  must  have 
received,  and  I  fully  expected  to  see  nothing  better 
than  two  foundering  wrecks  emerge  from  the 
smother  which  hovered  above  the  scene  of  the  explo- 
sions. Imagine  my  surprise,  then,  when  two  junk- 
like  profiles  (they  were  both  of  the  marvellously 
sea-worthy  <  Iceland  trawler >  type)  came  bobbing 


294 


SEA-HOUNDS 


serenely  into  sight  again,  and  I  noted  with  my  glass 
that  neither  appeared  to  have  suffered  serious  dam- 
age. On  the  score  of  lives,  a  tom-cat  has  nothing 
the  best  of  a  trawler.  If  it  had  been  otherwise  our 
whole  fleet  of  them — and  they,  with  the  drifters, 
form  the  main  strands  of  the  finer  meshes  of  our 
anti-U-boat  net — would  have  been  wiped  out  many 
times  over. 

"  At  the  instant  the  jar  of  the  first  explosion 
made  itself  felt,  the  thought  flashed  through  my 
mind  that  there  actually  was  a  U-boat  lying  on  the 
bottom,  and  that  the  explosive  charge  on  the  sweep 
had  been  detonated  against  its  hull.  The 
1  bunched '  explosions  immediately  following  also 
lent  themselves  to  this  theory,  and  it  was  not  till 
the  distinct  columns  of  blown  water  began  rising 
in  the  air  that  I  surmised  the  real  cause  of  them— 
mines,  probably  laid  so  close  together  that  the 
explosion  of  the  first  had  set  off  the  others.  This 
fact  we  were  shortly  able  to  establish  beyond  a 
doubt. 

"  What  had  happened,  as  nearly  as  we  could 
reconstruct  it,  was  this:  The  U-boat  had  been  a 
mine-layer,  probably  interrupted  on  its  way  to  lay 
its  eggs  off  one  of  our  main  fleet  bases.  The 
chances  are  that  it  had  been  sufficiently  injured 
by  my  depth-charges  to  make  it  more  of  a  risk  than 
its  skipper  cared  to  take  to  proceed  farther  from  his 
base;  quite  likely,  indeed,  he  had  to  put  back  at 
once.  Then  the  chance  of  preparing  a  little  sur- 


ROUNDING  UP  FRITZ  295 

prise  party  for  the  ship  responsible  for  his  trouble 
must  have  occurred  to  him,  and  the  result  was  that 
a  snug  little  nest  of  mines  was  laid  all  the  way 
around  the  marking  buoy.  Having  more  mines 
than  he  needed  to  barrage  the  buoy,  he  had  scuttled 
several  of  those  remaining  after  the  first  job  was 
completed,  and  these  had  been  the  ones  set  off  by 
the  explosive  charge  on  the  trawlers'  sweep.  The 
spreading  of  wreckage  as  bait  around  the  trap  was 
probably  an  afterthought,  for  it  was  so  hurriedly 
done  that  it  really  defeated  the  end  it  was  intended 
to  accomplish.  I  am  inclined  to  think,  in  fact,  that, 
if  the  mines  had  laid  round  the  buoy,  with  no 
spread  of  oil  or  wreckage  left  to  decoy  us  into  them, 
they  might  have  had  a  victim  or  two  to  their  credit. 
They  were  laid  shallow  enough  to  have  bumped 
both  sloops  and  destroyers,  and  the  exploding  of 
a  mine  against  the  bows  of  one  or  the  other  of 
these  may  well  have  been  the  first  warning  we  had 
of  Fritz's  little  joke.  As  it  was,  that  part  of  the 
show  was  so  crudely  done  that  it  gave  away  that 
something  was  wrong. 

"  Yes,  I  have  always  thought  of  that  as  '  Fritz's 
little  joke/  "  continued  the  captain,  bracing  himself 
at  a  new  angle  to  meet  a  rollicking  cork-screw 
action  that  was  working  into  the  ship's  wallowings. 
"  It  was  just  the  sort  of  a  plant  I  would  like  to 
have  left  for  Fritz,  if  our  roles  had  been  reversed, 
and  for  a  while  I  felt  rather  more  kindly  toward 
all  Fritzes  on  account  of  having  knocked  up 


296 


SEA-HOUNDS 


against  it.  That  feeling  persisted  until  three  or 
four  months  later,  when  the  fortunes  of  war — in 
the  shape  of  a  luckily-planted  depth-charge — paved 
the  way  for  an  opportunity  for  me  to  tell  the  story 
to  a  certain  Hun  Unterseeboot  officer  during  the 
hour  or  two  he  was  my  guest  on  the  way  to  base. 
He  spoke  English  fairly,  and  understood  it  well; 
so  that  I  was  able  to  run  through  the  yarn  just 
about  as  I  have  told  it  to  you.  He  gave  vent  to  his 
approval  in  guttural  '  Ya's '  and  grunts  of  satis- 
faction until  I  ended  by  asking  him  if  he  didn't 
think  it  was  a  jolly  clever  little  joke.  And  what  do 
you  think  he  said  to  that? 

" '  Choke/  he  boomed  explosively ;  '  choke,  vy, 
mein  frent,  dot  vos  not  ein  choke  ad  all.  He  vos 
dryin  to  zink  your  destroy'r.  Dot  ist  no  choke.' ' 

The  captain  stretched  himself  with  a  whimsical 
smile.  "  How  unpleasant  it  would  be  to  be  ship- 
mates with  a  chap  like  that  who  couldn't  see  the 
funny  side  of  being  blown  up,"  he  observed 
presently. 

"  Just  as  unpleasant,"  I  replied,  "  as  it  is  pleas- 
ant to  be  shipmates  with  a  man  who  could." 

After  thus  rising  to  the  occasion,  I  was  em- 
boldened to  ask  the  captain  to  tell  me  a  little  more 
about  that  "  luckily-planted  depth-charge  "  he  had 
referred  to  so  casually,  and  its  train  of  conse- 
quences. 

"  Here  is  the  result,"  he  said  with  a  smile,  hand- 
ing me  several  small  kodak  prints  from  his  pocket- 


ROUNDING  UP  FRITZ 


297 


book.  "  What  little  yarn  there  is  to  tell  I'll  rattle 
off  for  you  with  pleasure  after  I've  been  up  to  the 
bridge  for  a  bit  of  a  *  look-see.'  Seems  as  if  she  is 
banging  into  it  harder  than  she  ought  for  this 
course  and  speed." 

The  light  went  out  as  the  automatic  switch  cut 
off  the  current  with  the  opening  of  the  door,  and 
when  it  flashed  on  again,  as  the  door  was 
slammed  shut,  I  found  myself  alone,  with  the  prints 
lying  in  the  middle  of  the  chart  of  the  North  Sea. 
Two  of  these  showed  a  thin  sliver  of  a  submarine 
that  might  have  been  of  almost  any  type.  A  third, 
however,  showed  an  unmistakable  U-boat,  heeling 
slightly,  and  with  a  whaler  alongside,  evidently  in 
the  act  of  taking  off  some  of  the  men  crowded  upon 
the  narrow  forward  deck.  And  in  the  background 
of  this  print  was  lying  a  long  slender  four-funneled 
destroyer  that  I  recognised  at  once  as  either  the 
Flash  or  another  of  the  same  class.  On  the  back 
of  this  print  was  written  "  Quarter  view  of  U.C. — 
at  14.10.  Flash's  whaler  transferring  prisoners; 
Splash's  whaler's  crew  clearing  decks  of  wounded." 

A  fourth  print,  similar  to  the  third  but  much 
covered  with  arrows  and  writing,  appeared  to  be  a 
kind  of  key  to  the  latter.  An  angling  sort  of  bar, 
which  appeared  as  a  black  line  above  the  bows  in 
the  photograph,  was  labelled  "  Nut  Cutter,"  and 
several  other  characteristic  U-boat  devices  were 
similarly  indicated.  These  all  established  points  of 
great  technical  value,  doubtless,  but  a  keener 


298 


SEA-HOUNDS 


human  interest  attached  to  the  legends  penciled  at 
the  feather  ends  of  arrows  pointing  to  two  figures 
on  the  deck  of  the  submarine,  just  abaft  the  con- 
ning-tower.  Opposite  the  one  that  appeared  to  be 
leaning  over  a  light  rail,  with  one  arm  extended  as 
though  he  was  in  the  act  of  giving  a  command, 
was  written,  "  Deceased  captain  of  submarine." 
Against  the  other,  a  sprawling  inert  heap  huddled 
up  against  the  conning-tower,  appeared,  "  Man 
with  both  legs  shot  off  (alive)." 

There  was  a  lot  of  history  crowded  into  that 
scrawled-over  print,  and  I  was  still  gazing  at  it 
with  awed  fascination  when  the  opening  door 
winked  off  the  light,  and  then  closed  again  to  reveal 
the  captain,  dripping  with  the  blown  brine  of  the 
wave  that  the  Flash  had  put  her  nose  into  at  the 
moment  he  was  coming  down  the  ladder. 

"  Rather  more  of  a  sea  than  I  expected  to-night," 
he  said  as  he  pulled  his  duffel-coat  over  his  head 
and  sat  down  to  kick  off  his  sea-boots ;  "  so  I've 
slowed  her  down  a  few  knots  and  we'll  jog  along 
easy  till  daylight."  Then,  as  he  recognised  the 
photo  in  my  hand,  "  Rather  a  grim  story  that  little 
kodak  tells,  isn't  it?  You'll  find  just  about  all  of 
the  yarn  you  were  asking  for  down  there  in  black 
and  white." 

"  Not  quite,"  I  replied  hastily,  recognising  from 
long  experience  the  forerunning  signs  of  a  modest 
man  trying  to  side-step  going  into  details  respect- 
ing some  episode  in  which  he  happens  to  have 


ROUNDING  UP  FRITZ 


299 


played  a  leading  part.  "  Not  quite.  It  chances 
that  I've  heard  something  of  the  bagging  of  U.C. — 

from  Admiral not  long  after  it  occurred,  and 

he  said  it  was  one  of  the  cleverest  bits  of  work  of 
the  kind  that  anyone  has  pulled  off.  I  didn't  con- 
nect you  and  the  Flash  with  it,  though.  But  now 
that  you're  caught  with  the  goods,  the  chance  to 
hear  several  of  the  details  the  Admiral  had  failed 
to  learn  is  too  good  to  miss.  How  did  you  manage 
to  slip  up  on  her  in  the  first  place,  and  did  you 

wing  her  skipper  at  the  outset,  and ?  " 

Evidently  figuring  it  would  be  best  not  to  let  me 
pile  up  too  big  a  lead  of  questions  for  him  to  an- 
swer, the  captain  sat  down  resignedly  and  took  up 
the  thread  of  the  story  at  somewhere  near  the  be- 
ginning. 

"  How  did  we  manage  to  slip  up  on  her?  "  he 
repeated.  "  Well,  principally,  I  should  say,  be- 
cause she  was  '  preoccupied.'  I  told  you  last  night 
that  I  used  to  get  away  for  a  bit  of  tiger  shooting 
while  I  was  on  Eastern  stations,  and  you  mentioned 
that  you'd  had  a  go  at  it  yourself  now  and  then. 
So  we  both  have  probably  picked  up  a  smattering 
of  the  ways  of  tigers.  Now  I've  always  maintained 
that  the  fact  that  I  had  given  a  bit  of  study  to  the 
ways  of  man-eaters  was  a  big  help  to  me  in  under- 
standing the  ways  of  Huns.  A  hungry  tiger,  on 
the  prowl  for  something  to  devour,  is  about  the 
hardest  brute  in  the  world  to  stalk  successfully; 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  one  that  has  made  its 


300 


SEA-HOUNDS 


kill  and  is  sating  its  bloody  lust  upon  it  is  jusi 
about  the  easiest.  It's  just  the  same  with  a  U-boat. 
The  one  best  chance  we  have  of  surprising  one  on 
the  surface  is  while  it  is  in  the  act  of  sinking  a 
merchantman  by  bombs  or  shell-fire,  or  just  after 
the  victim  has  been  torpedoed  and  the  pirate  is 
standing-by  to  fire  on  the  boats  and  pick  up  any 
officers  it  may  think  worth  while  to  take  prisoner. 
That  was  what  was  responsible  for  the  luck  that 
befell  me  in  the  instance  in  question.  The  U.C.— 
a  day  or  two  previously  to  the  one  on  which  she 
was  slated  to  meet  her  finish,  had  sunk  the  British 
merchantman  Hilda  Bronson,  and  carried  off  as 
prisoners  the  captain  and  mate.  These  men,  after 
we  rescued  them,  were  able  to  give  us  some  account 
of  how  their  hosts  spent  the  morning  of  the  day  on 
which  they  encountered  the  Flash.  Their  general 
practice,  of  course,  was  to  submerge  in  the  daytime 
and  run  on  the  surface,  charging  batteries,  during 
the  night.  Emboldened  by  two  or  three  recent  suc- 
cesses in  sinking  small  merchantmen  by  gun-fire 
and  bombs,  they  appeared  to  have  become  very  con- 
temptuous of  our  anti-submarine  measures,  and 
declared  that  they  were  just  as  safe  on  the  surface 
in  the  daytime  as  at  night.  Bearing  out  the  prob- 
ability that  these  words  were  by  no  means  spoken 
in  jest,  is  the  fact  that  they  did  not  dive  at  day- 
break, but  continued  to  cruise  on  the  surface  on 
the  look  out  for  unarmed  ships  which  could  be 
safely  sunk  without  risking  the  loss  of  a  torpedo  or 


ROUNDING  UP  FRITZ 


301 


damage  to  themselves  by  gun-fire.  This  class  of 
ships — fortunately,  there  are  few  of  them  left  save 
under  neutral  flags — was  the  U-boat's  favourite 
prey. 

"  About  eight  o'clock  their  search  was  rewarded. 
The  two  British  sailors  heard  a  number  of  shots, 
and  presently  understood  the  U-boat  skipper  to  de- 
clare that  he  had  just  put  down  a  small  Norwegian 
steamer  with  shell-fire.  As  they  were  still  full  up 
with  the  stores  looted  from  the  Hilda  Bronson,  no 
attempt  was  made  to  take  off  anything  from  the 
sinking  Norwegian.  All  morning  the  pirate  con- 
tinued cruising  on  the  surface,  diving  only  once. 
Great  attention  was  given  to  surroundings,  stops 
being  made  about  once  an  hour  to  heave  the  lead. 
In  this  they  displayed  good  sense  beyond  a  doubt, 
for  it  is  worth  a  lot  to  a  submarine  to  know  whether 
it  can  dive  straight  on  to  the  bottom  without  en- 
countering a  pressure  strong  enough  to  crush  it  in. 

"  About  noon  another  helpless  victim — this  time 
a  British  merchant  steamer — was  sighted,  and  the 
imprisoned  sailors  counted  nine  shots  before  tre- 
mendous consternation  and  confusion  spread 
through  the  submarine  as  fire  was  opened  on  her 
by  some  ship  coming  up  from  the  same  direction  as 
the  merchantman  bore,  and  she  dived  with  all  pos- 
sible dispatch.  This  was  where  the  Flash  began  to 
take  a  hand  in  the  game. 

"  Now  the  fact  that  this  particular  Fritz  ought 
easily  to  have  sighted  us  at  twice  the  distance  at 


302 


SEA-HOUNDS 


which  we  opened  with  our  foremost  12-pounder 
bears  out  exactly  what  I  said  about  the  traits  the 
Hun  and  the  tiger  have  in  common.  They  are  both 
'  foul-feeders/  and  begin  to  see  so  red,  once  the 
blood-lust  of  prospective  satiation  is  upon  them, 
that  they  are  half  blinded  to  everything  else.  If 
this  fellow  hadn't  been  so  absorbed  in  doing  that 
little  steamer  to  death  he  need  never  have  let  us 
get  within  a  range  that  would  have  permitted  more 
than  a  swift  shot  or  two  at  his  disappearing  con- 
ning-tower.  It  was  his  sheer  '  blood-drunkenness ' 
that  gave  us  our  chance. 

"It  was  a  day  of  very  low  visibility — not  over  a 
mile  and  a  half,  or  two  miles  at  the  outside — and  I 
was  out  on  a  bit  of  an  escort  stunt  of  small  impor- 
tance. The  first  intimation  I  had  that  anything 
out  of  the  usual  run  was  afoot  came  in  the  form  of 
sharp  gun-fire  on  my  starboard  beam.  It  sounded 
fairly  close  at  hand,  and  though  no  ship  was  vis- 
ible, there  was  just  a  hint  of  luminosity  in  the  mist- 
curtain  to  indicate  the  direction  of  the  gun-flashes. 
The  helm  was  immediately  put  hard-a-port  and  the 
telegraphs  at  Full  Speed,  and  off  went  the  Flash  to 
investigate.  Scarcely  had  I  turned  than  a  wire- 
less signal  was  brought  to  me  on  the  bridge  repeat- 
ing the  calls  of  assistance  of  a  steamer  that  was 
being  shelled  by  an  enemy  submarine.  That  little 
'  flying  start '  of  mine,  which  involved  leaving  the 
ship  I  was  escorting  and  jumping  out  without 
waiting  for  orders,  gave  me  the  minute  or  so  to 


ROUNDING  UP  FEITZ 


303 


tlie  good  which  probably  made  all  the  difference 
between  success  and  failure.  But  that  is  quite 
characteristic  of  destroyer  work ;  more  than  in  any 
other  class  of  ship,  you  are  called  on  to  decide  for 
yourself,  to  jump  out  on  your  own. 

"  The  first  thing  I  saw  was  the  dim  blur  of  a 
small  merchantman  taking  shape  in  the  mist,  and 
as  the  image  sharpened,  the  splash  of  falling  pro- 
jectiles became  visible.  She  was  throwing  out  a 
cloud  of  smoke  and  zigzagging  in  a  panicky  sort  of 
way  in  an  endeavour  to  avoid  the  shells  which  were 
exploding  nearer  and  nearer  at  every  shot.  As  she 
caught  sight  of  the  Flash  she  altered  course  and 
headed  straight  up  for  us,  and,  busy  as  my  mind 
was  at  the  moment,  I  could  not  help  thinking  how 
like  her  action  was  to  that  of  an  Aberdeen  pup  I 
used  to  own  when  he  saw  me  coming  to  extricate 
him  from  his  daily  scrap  with  a  neighbour's  fox 
terrier. 

"  It  was  just  at  the  moment  that  the  merchant- 
man turned  up  to  get  under  our  wing  that  the 
sharpening  gun-flashes  began  revealing  the  con- 
ning-tower  of  a  submarine.  We  had  gone  to  Action 
Stations  at  once,  of  course,  and  I  am  practically 
certain  that  the  opening  shot  of  the  fo'c'sl'  gun  was 
the  first  warning  Fritz  had  that  his  little  kultur 
course  was  about  to  be  interrupted.  Under  the 
circumstances,  the  fact  that  he  effected  his  disap- 
pearing act  in  from  thirty  to  forty  seconds  indi- 
cates very  smart  handling;  too  smart,  indeed,  to 


304 


SEA-HOUNDS 


give  us  a  fair  chance  to  get  in  a  hit  with  a  shell, 
although  the  gunners  made  a  very  keen  bid  for  it. 
Their  turn  came  a  few  moments  later,  however. 

"  Once  Fritz  had  passed  from  sight  there  was 
only  one  thing  to  do,  the  thing  we  tried  to  do  to- 
night— depth-charge  him.  And  there  really  was 
no  difference  in  what  we  did  on  the  one  occasion 
and  what  we  did  on  the  other — nothing,  I  mean  to 
say,  except  the  result.  Estimating  his  course  from 
the  point  of  submergence,  I  steered  directly  over 
where  I  judged  he  would  be  and  let  go  one  of  those 
very  useful  type  < '  charges.  Well," — the  cap- 
tain smiled  in  a  deprecatory  sort  of  way — "  the 
depth-charge  isn't  exactly  what  you'd  call  a 
'  weapon  of  precision,'  and  so  it  follows  that  when 
you  hit  what  you  are  after  with  one  it  must  be 
largely  a  matter  of  luck.  Judgment?  Oh,  yes,  a 
certain  amount  of  it,  but  I'd  rather  have  luck  than 
judgment  any  day.  At  any  rate,  this  was  my  lucky 
day.  Within  fifteen  seconds  from  the  moment  I 
felt  the  jolt  of  the  detonating  charge  Fritz's  con- 
ning-tower  was  breaking  surface  on  my  starboard 
beam.  Helm  had  been  put  hard-a-port  as  the  charge 
was  dropped,  so  that  all  the  starboard  guns  were 
bearing  on  the  conning-tower  the  instant  it  bobbed 
up.  This  was  right  on  the  outer  rim  of  the  '  boil ' 
of  the  explosion — just  where  it  would  be  expected— 
and,  of  course,  it  presented  an  easy  target.  To  say 
it  was  riddled  would  be  putting  it  mildly.  One 
shot  alone  from  the  foremost  six-pounder  would 


ROUNDING  UP  FRITZ 


305 


have  made  it  out  of  the  question  for  it  to  dive  again, 
even  had  other  complications  which  had  already 
set  in  left  it  in  shape  to  face  submergence. 

"  A  second  or  two  more,  and  the  whole  length  of 
our  bag  was  showing,  riding  fairly  level  fore-and- 
aft,  but  with  a  slight  list  to  starboard.  We  had  now 
turned,  and  from  our  position  on  the  submarine's 
port  quarter  could  plainly  see  the  crew  come  bob- 
bing out  of  the  hatch  on  to  the  deck.  Each  of 
them  had  his  hands  lifted  in  the  approved  (  Kam- 
erad '  fashion,  and  took  good  care  to  keep  them 
there  as  long  as  they  noticed  any  active  movement 
around  the  business  ends  of  our  guns.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  as  there  had  been  no  colours  flying  to 
strike,  those  lifted  hands  were  the  only  tangible 
tokens  of  surrender  we  received.  As  we  had  her  at 
our  mercy,  however,  they  looked  conclusive  enough 
for  me,  and  I  sent  a  boat  away  as  quickly  as  it 
could  be  lowered  and  manned. 

"  It  was  not  until  this  boat  returned  that  I 
learned  of  the  two  British  merchant  marine 
officers  who  had  been  aboard  her  through  it  all. 
The  Huns  had  crowded  them  out  in  their  stampede 
for  the  hatches,  so  that  they  had  been  the  very  last 

to  reach  the  deck.  Mr.  X ,  who  was  in  charge 

of  the  whaler,  compensated  as  fully  as  he  could  for 
this  by  taking  them  off  first.  The  experiences  they 
had  been  through  had  been  just  about  as  terrible 
as  men  could  ever  be  called  upon  to  face ;  and  yet, 
when  they  clambered  aboard  Flashy  they  were  smil- 


306 


SEA-HOUNDS 


ing,  clear  of  head  and  eye,  and  altogether  quite  un- 
shaken. You've  certainly  got  to  take  off  your  hat 
to  these  merchant  marine  chaps;  they've  fought 
half  the  battle  for  the  Navy. 

"  The  story  they  had  to  tell  of  what  they  had 
seen  and  heard  during  their  enforced  cruise  in  the 
U-boat  was  an  interesting  one,  but  on  the  final  act 
— largely  because  the  curtain  had  been  rung  down 
so  quickly — there  was  little  they  could  add  to  what 
had  passed  before  my  own  eye.  The  shock  from  the 
depth-charge — which  appears  to  have  detonated 
just  about  right  to  have  the  maximum  effect — was 
terrific.  The  whole  submarine  seemed  to  have  been 
forced  sideways  through  the  water  by  the  jolt,  and 
just  as  all  the  lights  went  out  one  of  them  said  that 
he  saw  the  starboard  side  of  the  compartment  he 
was  in — it  was  what  would  correspond  to  the  Ward 
Room,  I  believe,  a  space  more  or  less  reserved  for 
the  officers — bending  inward  before  the  pressure. 
Instantly  the  spurt  of  water  was  heard  flooding  in 
both  fore  and  aft,  and  that  alone  was  sufficient  to 
make  it  imperative  for  her  to  rise  at  once.  As  it 
was  only  a  minute  or  two  since  she  submerged, 
everyone  was  at  station  for  bringing  her  to  the 
surface  again,  so  that  not  a  second  was  lost  in 
spite  of  the  inevitable  confusion  following  the  sud- 
den dive  and  the  explosion  of  the  depth-charge. 

"  There  had  been  a  mad  lot  of  rushes  for  the 
ladders  and  hatches,  but  the  skipper,  it  appears,  got 
up  first,  through  the  conning-tower  to  the  bridge, 


ROUNDING  UP  FRITZ 


307 


is  the  official  leader  of  the  '  Kamerad  Parade.'  He 
was  just  in  time  to  connect  with  the  first  shell  from 
our  foremost  six-pounder,  and  that,  or  one  of  the 
succeeding  projectiles  which  were  fired  before  it 
was  evident  they  were  trying  to  surrender,  ac- 
counted for  several  others  in  the  van  of  the  opening 
rush.  The  officer  in  charge  of  the  whaler  reported 
seeing  several  dead  bodies  lying  on  the  deck  and 
floating  in  the  water,  among  these  being  that  of 
the  captain,  which  was  taken  back  to  Base  and 
given  a  naval  funeral.  There  were  also  two  or 
three  wounded.  Of  unwounded  there  were  fifteen 
men  and  two  officers,  out  of  something  like  twenty- 
four  in  the  original  crew.  One  of  the  officers 
claimed  to  be  a  relation  of  Prince  Henry  of  Prussia, 
but  why  he  didn't  claim  the  Kaiser  himself,  who  is 
full  brother  to  Prince  Henry,  I  could  never  quite 
make  out.  As  this  was  the  same  officer  I  told  you 
of  as  not  being  able  to  see  a  joke,  I  didn't  think 
it  worth  while  to  try  to  follow  the  ramifications  of 
his  family  tree  any  farther.  The  engineer  asserted 
that  he  had  already  been  in  eight  warships  which 
had  been  destroyed,  these  including  a  battleship 
and  two  or  three  cruisers  and  motor  launches.  I 
did  the  best  I  could  to  comfort  him  by  telling  him 
that,  in  case  the  Flash  wasn't  put  down  by  a  U-boat 
in  the  three  or  four  hours  which  would  elapse  be- 
fore we  made  Base,  he  need  have  no  further  worries 
on  the  sinking  score  for  some  time  to  come.  Just 
the  same,"  he  concluded,  with  a  shake  of  the  head, 


308  SEA-HOUNDS 

"  I  was  glad  to  see  that  chap  safely  over  the  side. 
No  sailor  likes  to  be  shipmates  with  a  <  Jonah,' 
especially  in  times  like  these. 

"  By  the  time  we  had  finished  transferring  the 
prisoners  the  Splash  had  joined  us,  and  her  captain, 
being  my  senior,  took  charge  of  the  rest  of  the 
show.  On  my  reporting  that  I  had  several  severely 
wounded  Huns  aboard,  he  ordered  me  to  return  to 
Base  with  them. 

"  I  think  that's  about  all  there  is  to  the  yarn," 
said  the  captain,  rising  and  starting  to  pull  on  his 
sea-togs  preparatory  to  going  up  for  another 
"  look-see "  before  turning  In.  Then  something 
flashed  to  his  mind  as  an  afterthought,  and  he  re- 
laxed for  a  moment,  red  of  face  and  breathless,  from 
a  struggle  with  a  refractory  boot. 

"  There  was  one  thing  I  shall  always  be  glad 
about  in  connection  with  that  little  affair,"  he  said 
thoughtfully,  a  really  serious  look  in  his  eyes  for 
almost  the  first  time  since  I  had  seen  him  directing 
the  dropping  of  the  depth-charges  early  in  the  eve- 
ning; "and  that  is  that  I  didn't  know  in  advance 
that  those  two  British  merchant  marine  officers 

were  imprisoned  in  the  U.C.  ' '  with  the  Huns 

when  we  came  driving  down  to  drop  a  '  can  '  on  her. 
My  duty  would  have  been  quite  clear,  of  course, 
and,  as  you  doubtless  know,  some  of  our  chaps  have 
faced  harder  alternatives  than  that  without  flinch- 
ing or  deviating  an  iota  from  the  one  thing  that  it 
was  up  to  them  to  do;  but,  just  the  same,  I'm  not 


ROUNDING  UP  FEITZ 


309 


half  certain  that  the  instinct,  or  whatever  you 
want  to  call  it,  which  seemed  to  jog  my  elbow  at 
the  psychological  moment  that  charge  had  to  be  let 
go  to  do  its  best  work — I'm  not  at  all  sure  that  in- 
stinct would  have  served  me  so  well  had  I  known 
that  success  might  have  to  be  purchased  by  sending 
two  of  my  own  countrymen — yes,  more  than  that, 
two  sailors  like  myself — to  eternity  with  the 
pirates  who  held  them  as  hostages.  Yes,  it  was  a 
mercy  that  I  didn't  have  that  on  my  mind  at  the 
moment  when  I  needed  all  the  wits  and  nerve  I  had 
to  get  that '  can  '  off  in  the  right  place." 

Visibly  embarrassed  at  having  allowed  his  feel- 
ings to  betray  him — a  British  naval  officer — into  a 
display  of  something  almost  akin  to  emotion,  the 
captain  stamped  noisily  into  the  stuck  sea-boot  and 
disappeared,  behind  a  slammed  door,  into  the  night. 


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